Title:   To Love a Hero

Author:   Mona Risk

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A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

To Love a Hero

ISBN 9781419913686

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

To Love a Hero Copyright © 2008 Mona Risk

Edited by Helen Woodall.

Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

Electronic book Publication January 2008

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.  (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

T L

O  OVE A  ERO

H

Mona Risk

Dedication and Acknowledgements

I would like to thank:

Cerridwen Press and Raelene Gorlinsky for making my dream come true.

My editor Helen Woodall for her patient help.

My friends and critique partners, Helen Scott–Taylor and Joan Frantschuk for their thorough and endless reading.

The wonderful ladies of the Writers’ Playground for critiquing, advising, supporting and cheering.

Very special thanks to my son, Paul, and my daughter, Arlene, for their faith in their mother and their encouragement, and a big hug to my mom, my first and biggest fan.

This book is dedicated to my husband, my real hero and the love of my life. Sam, a toast of vodka for your continuous support.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Black Jack: Harrah’s License Company

Boeing: Boeing Management Company

Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Company LLC

Nobel Prize: Nobel Foundation

Old Spice: Procter & Gamble Company

USA Today

: Media West–GSI Inc

Vogue

: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.

Volvo: Volvo Personvagnar AB Corporation

VW: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

To Love a Hero

Chapter One

“Welcome to Minsk International Airport,” the loudspeaker announced as the aircraft bounced on the runway before coming to a halt.

Cecile Lornier rubbed her ringless finger, her spirit buoyant with triumph. “Belarus, here I come. Finally,” she whispered, her nose pressed against the plane window for a first look at the remote little country, located south of Russia. Not much to see. But the gloomy sight of gray sky, barren trees and drizzling rain couldn’t dim the joy that exploded in her heart. After a twelve-hour flight, she’d made it to Minsk. In spite of her ex-fiancé’s dirty dealing. For the millionth time, she cursed Rob Spenser, the worthless creep who’d snatched her promotion, almost foiled her first international assignment and gifted her with a bleeding ulcer.

With a sigh of relief, she hung her purse on her arm and collected her hand luggage to exit the plane. Dragging her carryon suitcases, she proceeded up the bumpy ramp of the jetway boarding bridge.

A group of people clustered in front of a sign affixed on the sidewall. Russian or

Belarussian?

Might as well be Chinese as far as I’m concerned

. Unable to decipher the foreign script, Cecile shrugged and followed the line of passengers through the arrival gate, toward an escalator.

As if this rickety machine could be called a mechanical escalator. The uneven steps jolted with a grinding noise, bouncing and shuddering downward. Cecile scanned the area for an elevator or stairway. There were none in sight. Was she expected to negotiate this crooked roller coaster with her luggage in hand?

Apparently, yes. The passengers were carefully holding the railing, men helping their female companions and children as they went down. She eyed the rattletrap contraption. Her first taste of Belarussian obsolete technology. This was exactly why her company had been chosen to help modernize the local environmental laboratory.

A military officer dressed in khaki passed her. Cecile’s gaze fixed on his large back and decorated epaulets. He was tall, solid. A brick wall of a man. The wobbly escalator didn’t seem to bother him but then he didn’t have two suitcases hindering his movements.

Cecile bit her lip, imagining the sneer on Rob’s face if he could see her now, hesitating so long in front of the first step of her mission. Literally the very first step.

She shifted her two carryons to her left hand and followed the officer onto the jerking stairway, hoping for the best. Wishful thinking. Her short heel caught between the steps of the damned escalator. Gripping the railing for dear life, she let her luggage slip out of her hand as she pitched forward.

“Welcome to Minsk…” the airport speaker roared in broken English.

5

Mona Risk

A sturdy back blocked her fall. The officer turned and circled her waist with brawny arms, welding her to his rock-hard frame. She stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped breathing, until the officer lowered her to stable ground as they reached the end of the escalator.

Her head still pillowed against the muscular chest, she took a breath, inhaling the scent of soap and spicy cologne. She was alive all right and oddly secure in this stranger’s arms.

He said something in his native language. She tilted her head back. Her gaze collided with deep blue eyes shadowed by long, black lashes. Still floating in a peculiar haze, Cecile squirmed to free herself. She gasped for air to clear her head and squeaked, “I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, a glint of interest under the scowling eyebrows. “

Americanka

?” His baritone voice echoed against the metallic escalator’s crunch. “Here, let me help you.”

He cupped her elbow. “Can you walk? Are you hurt?” he asked in fluent but accented

English.

Leaning on his arm, she took two steps and exhaled with relief. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Her ankles felt sore, her right shoulder hurt and her breasts ached from the impact but she was still in one piece. Breathing in uneven gulps, she eased from the officer’s supportive arm.

He waved to the escalator. “People have to be careful. It needs repair. There was a sign.”

“The sign? Oh, is that what it said?” Cecile bit her lip, patting her purse with regret.

The little Russian-English dictionary was right there.

“Unfortunately, fixing the airport escalator is not on our government’s priority list and there is no lift at the gate.” A curious smile replaced his scowl. “Is it your first visit to Belarus?”

“Yes. A business trip.” She wasn’t ready to stay here and converse with someone she’d never met before. Disoriented, she scanned the walls in the confined area for a sign or an arrow leading to baggage claim. People kept coming down the escalator and pushing past her but there was no sign of John Gordon. The Contract Director from the

Chemical Division of the Department of Defense (CDDD) had traveled in business class and disembarked before her. Obviously, the selfish oaf hadn’t bothered to wait for her.

The officer’s eyebrows shot up in an incredulous arch as he appraised her. “Are you traveling alone?”

Scanning the six-foot plus, movie star-type figure, she rubbed a sweaty palm against her raincoat. “No. My companion has already exited the plane.”

Damn it, where was the welcoming committee John promised? And where had he gone? “I appreciate your help, sir. I can manage now.” She extended a hand to grab the two carry-ons he’d collected for her. A knowing smile curved his mouth as he shook his

6

To Love a Hero head. “Let me help you to the passport control. This way,” he instructed as he offered her his left arm for support.

Glancing at the sharp profile, she hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the unspoken invitation. John had raved about the quaint charm of Belarus and the affability of its residents. She couldn’t reject the courteous gesture without being rude.

As her fingers curled on the sleeve at his elbow, his hard biceps contracted under her hand. Uncomfortable warmth spread through her. She stiffened but suppressed the urge to pull back.

He led her into an adjacent room where a musty smell mingled with the odor of strong tobacco. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose in distaste. The room bustled with passengers in long coats and round fur hats. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw John emerge from a dark corner, his burly frame swaying as he walked.

She pulled her hand from the officer’s arm and waved. John headed straight toward her. “For heaven’s sake, where did you rush to? Couldn’t you have waited for me?”

“Why?” He shrugged. “You always manage well enough on your own.”

Cecile rolled her eyes. “Not this time. The broken escalator at the arrival gate threw me down and this gentleman—”

“General Fedorin, I didn’t realize we were all on the same plane.” John pumped the officer’s hand. “It looks like you’ve already met Dr. Cecile Lornier.”

The General?

Oh, God. She had literally started her assignment on the wrong foot.

“Dr…Lornier?”

She registered the shock spreading over the general’s face. Her throat went dry with embarrassment.

John nodded. “Yes, General. Dr. Cecile Lornier, the Program Manager of your environmental chemical contract. I saw you coming in together and assumed you’d met.” John turned toward her. His bushy brows shot up. “Cecile, you have met General

Fedorin, haven’t you?”

Cecile winced. “Er…in a way. He’s the gentleman who saved my neck when I

stumbled down the escalator.” And he was the same Major General Sergei Fedorin who had signed her contract. The man she’d planned to impress with her professionalism.

The general’s gaze mirrored her amazement. He gave her an unsettling half-smile followed with a bow. “I am honored, Dr. Lornier. Welcome to Belarus.”

She needed to recover fast and respond to the polite greeting. Wetting her lips, she made an effort to control her uneven breathing. “General, thank you for your help.”

Not a brilliant sentence but the exchange of platitudes was better than awkward silence.

“I am glad I was able to prevent an accident.” He scowled and scanned the hall.

“Someone from our Ministry of Defense should have met you at the arrival gate.”

7

Mona Risk

“The last letter I received said a Colonel Roussov would greet us at the customs control.” John rummaged through his coat pocket and extracted an envelope he quickly perused.

“Colonel Roussov? I see.” The general’s eyebrows rose. Annoyance flickered on his face, before he rapidly concealed it under a smile. “In that case, follow me.”

He led them to a larger hall where passengers were already lined up, their passports in hand. When Cecile moved toward the line, the general stopped her. “No, please. You are an official guest in our country. Here is Colonel Roussov to help you.”

The general signaled to a stocky officer sta n d i n g  n e x t  t o  t h e  b a c k  w a l l ,  s m o k i n g  a cigarette while surveying the passengers.

The colonel was a handsome man with a dark mustache. Silver hair crowned his balding head. He threw his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with a heavy foot, then strode toward them and exchanged a military salute with the general. Cecile couldn’t tell if they spoke Russian or Belarussian but their dry tone and curt sentences didn’t sound like an exchange of niceties.

She took a step back and glanced at John. He winked and bent toward her, whispering, “There doesn’t seem to be any love lost between these two.”

“Have you met the colonel before?”

“Once. We hardly exchanged two sentences.”

The general glanced up as if he’d just remembered her presence. “Dr. Lornier, may I

introduce Colonel Roussov?”

The colonel’s gaze roamed over her face, his eyes widening with disbelief as if she’d come from another planet. “Dr.

Cecil, Cecile-ee

, Lornier?”

She cast a quizzical glance at John. He coughed and busied himself with his briefcase, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Puzzled, Cecile extended her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

The colonel clicked his heels, bowed and squeezed her hand. “Colonel Oleg

Roussov, Director of National Security, at your service.” He turned toward John for a handshake. “Welcome to Belarus, Mr. Gordon. Dr. Lornier. I am sorry about your accident on the escalator. From now on, you should not worry about a thing. Let me take your suitcases and your passports. I will help you clear customs.”

He was friendly, even patronizing, with an affable smile revealing two gold-capped teeth.

“I appreciate your help, Colonel.”

“Dr. Lornier, are you the only Program Manager for our project?” Roussov raised an eyebrow and glanced at the general. Fedorin stepped closer, darting a speculative look at her.

“Yes, of course. Why?” Cecile shifted her gaze from one officer to the other.

“I haven’t seen the contract. I was just wondering.” The colonel threw another strange look at the general and flicked his gaze toward her. “Please, wait for me here. I

8

To Love a Hero will be back with the entry visa forms.” He bypassed the lines and strode to the passport control windows.

Rooted in place, Cecile stared blankly at his departing back. The general touched her arm. Awareness shot up to her throat as he invaded her breathing space. Her chin tilted up a notch. “Yes?”

“I must leave now. Roussov will take care of the formalities.”

“General Fedorin, the colonel asked me an odd question. Were you expecting two

Program Managers?”

“No, of course not.” His eyes narrowed a fraction but he quickly added, “The opening meeting of our contract is scheduled for tomorrow at eleven, at the Hall of

Officers.”

Something was amiss here. The general hadn’t bothered to explain the colonel’s confusion. Her gaze trailed over the thin lines bracketing his lips, moved up the high-

boned cheeks and tracked the midnight sparks in his eyes. Was anything wrong? Where they expecting someone else?

His strong jaw and the small scar on his cleft chin conferred a somber expression to his beautiful face. A handsome man and a mighty officer.

Power and dynamite, she thought on a blink. Definitely not an easygoing customer she could intimidate with starchy speech.

“We’ll be there at eleven sharp, General.” John’s jovial voice intruded into her secret contemplation.

“Then I will see you tomorrow, John, Dr. Lornier.” The general shook hands with

John, then raised her hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss.

Her professional mask melted into a genuine smile. Did he always spice business with old-European, grand manners? She eased her hand out of the general’s palm and blurted the first serious thought that came to mind. “I can’t wait to visit the Belchem

Lab.”

“We will go to the laboratory after the meeting. Meanwhile, we will make every effort to ensure your comfort.”

His velvety voice sent a shiver down her spine but she forced a businesslike tone.

“Thank you, General. We have a lot to discuss about the contract and the lab refurbishment.”

“Yes, we do. Have a good evening, Dr. Lornier.” His gaze skimmed her face like a gentle caress, launching her heart on a much bigger roller coaster ride than the broken escalator.

For years, she had thrived on challenge in her analytical laboratory. Maybe now the real adventure had begun, with more chemistry than she’d bargained for.

* * * * *

9

Mona Risk

“I am sorry it took so long. Here are your customs declaration forms.” Roussov handed Cecile and John their passports and a couple of papers written in Russian.

“There are no computers at the airport. The clerk had to enter all the information by hand before stamping your passports.”

“No problem, Colonel. Now, I have to locate the rest of my luggage,” Cecile said as she surveyed her surroundings for a baggage claim area where she could collect her two valuable suitcases. One contained a heavy wool blanket, indispensable when traveling to Belarus at the end of October, according to John.

The other suitcase was filled with leather folders stamped with her company logo.

Her boss, always proficient at promoting EnviroAnalytical Laboratory, had appeared at her doorstep two hours before she left to the airport. He’d insisted she carried the public relations items to be distributed to Belarussian officers and laboratory staff—

preferably in front of John Gordon, the Contract Director who could provide EAL with more lucrative projects.

“Our only conveyor belt is a little slow.” Roussov pointed to a hidden corner of the hall where a row of suitcases jolted on a partially rusty set of rollers. He gave a few orders. Two employees rushed to carry Cecile’s luggage while glancing at her with deferential attention. Unease crept up her neck. Was it Roussov’s presence at her side that attracted interest? Did she look out of place in a pantsuit and raincoat, with no heavy coat or fur hat? With a sigh of relief, Cecile left the depressing gray hall where people eyed her with curiosity.

As she stepped out of the airport, she shivered. The bitter cold needled her face. The wind, heavy with moisture, whipped her hair and plastered strands of it against her cheeks. She buttoned her raincoat and raised its collar high over her turtleneck.

A vivacious young woman bounced from a rental van waiting at the curb and rushed toward them. With her suede miniskirt, brown leather jacket and thigh-high boots, she was the hippest female chauffeur Cecile had ever seen. A beige cap, tilted at a cocky angle over her forehead, completed her driver’s uniform.

John hugged the pretty chauffeur. “This is Tania, our driver and interpreter. I

specifically requested her from the rental car agency.”

Tania greeted them with a smile that could revive a dead body

. “Doubra Pajalavat, Madame Mr. Gordon

, .”

“Nice to meet you,” Cecile said, smiling back.

They managed to stuff all their suitcases into the van. Once Cecile and John were seated inside, their driver followed Roussov’s military Jeep out of the airport. The highway extended before them, vast, bumpy and almost deserted. Cecile gazed out of the window at the unfolding scenery, a horizon of dark forests with tall, leafless trees.

As the van approached an inspection gate, a police officer stepped out of a kiosk on the side of the road and waved his gloved hand. Tania slammed on the brakes. The old

VW burped and then came to an abrupt halt, hurling Cecile forward. Her palms flattened against the dashboard.

10

To Love a Hero

“Police,” Tania mumbled.

Cecile maintained a blank expression while the policeman threw a suspicious look inside the van. Colonel Roussov jumped out of his Jeep and yelled at the man who immediately saluted and signaled for them to move.

As the colonel approached her side of the car, Cecile lowered her window. “Dr.

Lornier, I apologize for the inconvenience. It will not happen again.” He turned toward

Tania. “Proceed.”

The van moved away and Tania explained, “Many policemen patrol the streets.

Always inspecting. But of course, this policeman was scared when he saw Colonel

Roussov.”

Cecile frowned. “Why would he be scared of the colonel? Roussov seems like a decent man. He’s doing his best to please us.”

“Everybody is scared of Colonel Roussov. He was the head of the Belarussian KGB.

There is no KGB anymore.” Tania shrugged. “They call it National Security now.”

“But it’s different,” John interjected.

“No, it’s not.” She snorted. “Why do you think Colonel Roussov came to receive you at the airport? You are important foreigners. He had to check you personally.”

“Thanks for reassuring us,” Cecile muttered wryly.

Tania’s laughter chimed like a crystal bell. She wagged a well-manicured finger. “I

think you passed his test.”

“Really? I’m wondering…” Cecile turned her head toward the back of the car.

“Hey, John, I saw you cracking up earlier when Roussov had trouble pronouncing my name. What’s going on?”

A sudden bout of laughter overcame John, bouncing his impressive belly.

“Come on, John, share with me. I could use a little morale boost right now.”

John rumpled his frizzy hair and controlled his hilarity. “Until your arrival, the

Belarussians thought that Dr. Lornier was a man. They misspelled your name on the contract.”

“I noticed they wrote

Cecile without the E. So?”

He shook his head, his eyebrows quirked. “You see, they aren’t used to working with executive women. They even prepared male entertainment for your pleasure. The gentlemen’s club, the whipping massage…hmm…”

“Whipping mass… You’ve got to be kidding me.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“It’s just a way to entertain clients in Belarus. There’s no golf here.”

Cecile pinched her mouth shut. Talk about unprofessional behavior. Well, she was not a male Program Manager and she didn’t do whipping massage. “That explains why

Roussov gawked at me. Why didn’t you clarify things during your previous trip?”

11

Mona Risk

“And miss the fun? No way.” Cecile gave him a narrowed-eyes look of dismay. He cleared his throat. “Hmm, you wouldn’t understand. Nothing exciting ever happens in my boring office at the CDDD.”

Typical John. Cecile knew better than to judge him on appearances. He had come on this trip specifically to audit her work and report her daily progress to the CDDD.

With a shrug, she dismissed the subject. “Now that I’ve met them, the officers will forget the misunderstanding.” God, she was so tired, physically and mentally. She couldn’t wait to lie down.

John grumbled. “It may not be that easy.”

So far, nothing had been easy with her contract. She had fought to get it and then fought to keep it. She was capable of playing hardball to manage the project.

A nagging feeling pinched her chest. She straightened her back. “You met General

Fedorin on your previous trip. Did he strike you as being a male chauvinist?” Darn it, not the gallant general who’d held her securely embraced. At the airport, he’d seemed considerate and honest but of course, first impressions could be misleading. She’d done a fine job misjudging Rob.

“I really don’t know about him in particular.” John cleared his throat. “I was referring to the ancient culture of this small country. Belarus is very different from

Russia.” He fidgeted with the zipper of his short coat. “Here, men work. Women raise children or work as teachers and nurses. You see the picture?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve installed a lab and trained chemists. I’m good at it. The

Belarussians signed the agreement. They’ll have to accept me. Even if they’re not used to working with executive women.”

She could imagine Rob’s smirk if she returned to Boston without fulfilling every codicil of the contract. His voice still grated in her ears.

Forget it, honey. Too far over your head.

John patted her arm. “I’ve audited your lab, Cecile. I’m confident you’ll do an excellent job as usual. You may have a shaky start but you’ll work through the mix-up.”

He’d had his fun and now she’d have to cope with the mess, without him lifting a finger to help. Good old John would do his audit. Sit, relax and observe and eventually report to her boss and his CDDD.

“I will succeed,” she vowed, her pulse accelerating as her gaze swayed to her hand and fixed on the very spot the general’s lips had warmed. Friend or foe?

“We’re going into the city now,” Tania announced as they left the countryside and entered the outskirts of Minsk. The car steered from the highway to a broad avenue.

The traffic grew and the streets swarmed with a colorful mix of civilians and militaries.

Cecile blinked, perplexed by the number of uniformed men strolling down the sidewalks. Banners extended across the width of the avenue and a cluster of people hid from the wind under a plastic shelter.

12

To Love a Hero

Tania lowered the driver-side window, allowing an alcohol smell to waft into the vehicle. “Few Belarussians own cars. The bus stations are always crowded. You often see people eating sandwiches or drinking vodka while waiting.” The van stopped in front of a modern high-rise. “This is Hotel Nievol and down there, Szwifloch River.”

Roussov dashed out of his Jeep to open the van door for Cecile. “It is our most luxurious hotel. I hope you will be comfortable here. Have a good evening, Dr. Lornier, Mr. Gordon.”

In the lobby, Cecile rubbed her gloved hands. The marble floor, flickering chandelier and old furniture created a dark ambiance, even at three o’clock in the afternoon.

After taking care of their reservations, John said, “Cecile, I’ll see you at six-thirty in the lobby. We’ll have dinner at the second floor restaurant. Tania, we’d like you to join us.”

Tania nodded. “I will wait here.” She raised a questioning gaze toward Cecile.

“Unless…Dr. Lornier would like me to help her unpack?”

“Sure. I can use some help,” Cecile hastened to reply. She wouldn’t leave Tania waiting alone in the cold lobby.

They juggled the suitcases into a narrow elevator and stopped on the fourteenth floor. Cecile struggled to open the door with the oversized key. With Tania’s help, she dragged her suitcases into the bedroom.

The room felt as cold as the North Pole. A crisp chill seeped through the thin gaps of the window frame. Freezing, Cecile rubbed her hands.

Tania gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, there is no heating. Our government allows heating only in the winter months, from November first to April thirtieth. But maybe I can do something.” She tucked a pillow against the windowsill for insulation, then pulled a wool blanket and bedspread from one of the twin beds and piled them on top of the other bed, building a warm cocoon. “This way you’ll feel warm tonight.”

Cecile went to inspect the bathroom. Nice, quite elegant with green tiles.

Hmm, the toilet paper is brownish, looks like sandpaper.

She touched it. It felt like sandpaper. Thank heaven, the faucet delivered hot water. She sighed with relief.

“Mr. Gordon mentioned you fell at the airport. How are you feeling now?” Tania asked.

“Much better, thank you. But my back is still sore.”

“I wouldn’t mind falling into the arms of our Major

Generalle

.” Tania giggled. “He is sooo handsome. Every woman in Minsk is a little bit in love with him. He is our big hero.”

“His wife doesn’t mind?” She fumbled with the lock of a suitcase, waiting for

Tania’s answer. But of course she wasn’t interested.

“He’s been a widower for some time. They never had children.”

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Mona Risk

“I see.” Cecile released the breath she’d been holding. She opened her luggage and organized her bottles of water in the refrigerator.

“You brought only dark suits, Dr. Lornier?” Tania asked as she hung the severe attire.

“Of course. They’re suitable for meetings and conferences.”

The girl fixed a stunned gaze on her. “What are you wearing in the evening? After work?”

“I’m here only to work.” She had come to Minsk to set up a laboratory and fulfill a contract, not to go out and waste time. At least, that was her plan, the plan she’d carefully devised while sitting for long hours in the plane. So why was she scowling at her outdated wardrobe?

“Just work?” Tania’s lips drooped in a grimace. “Maybe I can take you shopping?”

“I doubt I’ll have time for shopping.” On second thought, she could make time if the General…

Forget it. Remember the mess with Rob

. Never again would she muddle business with personal fun.

You’re here to work, work, work

. “How do you say ‘work’ in

Russian?” She should learn the useful word.

“

Robota

. You’re not married, Dr. Lornier?”

“No.”

“You should have some fun in the evening, after a whole day of robota

.” Tania shook her head as she folded a beige turtleneck.

Cecile shrugged, preferring not to discuss her social life, or lack of it. The excitement of the trip was enough to alleviate her loneliness and break the monotony of her work.

“You wouldn’t understand. I really love my work.” Ignoring her driver’s scowl, Cecile watched the freezing rain batter on the windowpane. After her extraordinary encounter with the general, nothing could be boring about work and the new project.

She just hoped he wouldn’t interfere in her professional decisions.

“But still, a pretty woman like you should have a special man,” Tania insisted boldly.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Cecile remembered brawny arms and a steel chest. A special man? Hadn’t she met one a few hours ago? His sensual mouth had fanned a warm breath close to her face, scalding her all the way to her toes.

Cecile lowered her eyes, recalling the feeling of his body against hers and the smell of his after-shave. He had been gallant and courteous.

Actually too gallant.

His lips had lingered on her hand, long enough to melt her apprehension and boggle her mind.

The image of her virile savior danced behind her closed lids, increasing her anxiety.

A special man. None other than the Major General, the hero of Belarus she’d have to impress with her work.

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To Love a Hero

She pursed her lips in defiance. Whether he liked it or not, the handsome general would have to work with this woman.

* * * * *

Major General Sergei Fedorin sat at his desk and pulled two pictures from the drawer. He gazed with love and longing at the faded photo of a lively seventeen-year-

old with long hair and twinkling eyes. Sophia, his pretty neighbor, who used to meet him behind the stairs of their building to cuddle and kiss.

He flipped to the other picture. His breathing caught in his throat. The image of a sick Sophia, already affected by cancer, smiled back at him. His wife of fifteen years, blonde and pale, with blue eyes too big for her face and a yellow dress too loose on her frail body.

“I will keep my promise, Sophia. I will purge our country of the Chernobyl pollution that cost you your precious life.”

On the day she died, five years ago, he was detained on military duty three hundred miles away. His heart still gnawed with the pain and guilt.

Their country was poor, too poor to feed its citizens, let alone start an environmental cleanup program. He inhaled deeply. “I will decrease the rate of cancer in Belarus. Now, the American delegation will help me,” Sergei vowed as he closed the drawer on the pictures.

A knock on his door jolted him from his deep thoughts. “Come in.”

Colonel Nicolai Nicouvitch walked in and saluted him. “

Doubra Pajalavat, Generalle

.

Welcome back. Good to see you, Sergei.” His assistant and good friend clapped him on the back. “How was your trip?”

“Not bad. The return was even more interesting. I met the American delegation.

Why weren’t you at the airport to receive them, Colonel?”

“I am sorry, Generalle

. Roussov convinced our Minister of Defense to let him go instead of me.”

“I see. Another of Roussov’s manipulations.” Sergei’s jaws clenched tightly as he wished his antagonist to hell and away from the American delegation.

“What’s your first impression?”

His impression? Or the reactions he would never confess to anyone? The tightening of his muscles when her fingers had trembled on his arm. The surge of protectiveness overwhelming him as bewildered hazel-green eyes had locked on his. The racing of his blood when her generous breasts had crushed against his chest.

And the shock he’d experienced at the introduction of the tall, gorgeous blonde he’d held in his arms as the Program Manager of his contract.

She had instantly metamorphosed from a delicate beauty to a serene, ice queen. The assertive Dr. Lornier, modestly garbed like an older woman.

15

Mona Risk

“Well,” Nicolai said, pulling him out of an interesting contemplation. “What do you think of the American scientist? Will he be amenable to a change of plans?”

Sergei narrowed his eyes on his officer. “The Program Manager is a woman.”

“A what?” Nicolai’s eyes widened.

“Dr. Cecile Lornier is a young and pretty woman, although she manages to project a very serious image. Nothing like our local beauties in bright colors and heavy makeup. Colonel, how did you allow such an error to occur?”

Nicolai cursed. “A woman? Er…I assumed…” A muscle twitched in his jaw. He cleared his throat. “I mean I could not guess… The name Cecil…” Embarrassment dripped from his colonel’s voice. “Remember, my

Generalle

, the first American movie we saw in Belarus was by Cecil B. DeMille. It never occurred to me that the American

Program Manager handling such an important responsibility would be a woman.” He looked to the heavens. “This has never happened before in Belarus. A woman. Who could have guessed?”

“She is too young for this job. Thirty. Thirty-two at the most,” Sergei declared.

“Much too young.” And much too pretty for his peace of mind. The shoulder-length blonde hair, in disarray from her fall, had partly shadowed her lovely face but he had admired at length her dainty profile and the stubborn chin, lifted in defiance. Her full lips, tightened in aggravation, had beckoned to him like forbidden fruit—an unwelcome distraction to his mission.

Nicolai’s sigh sent warning bells jangling in his head. “What are we going to do about her? She may ruin everything.” Nicolai lit a cigarette and inhaled nervously.

Sergei pushed his chair and stood. For the first time in his life, he hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He paced to the window, gazed at the blanket of clouds darkening the afternoon. His mood was as gray as the sky.

Had John Gordon lost his mind, signing the contract so precious to Sergei’s heart, over to such a young woman? “I don’t know, Nicolai, I don’t know. A difficult situation, a real problem.”

Blood pounded at his temples from the thought. The difficult project, his mission and the citizens’ dream of a country free from pollution would rest on her delicate shoulders.

“

Generalle

, we can’t let this young woman waste the US aid on a laboratory when thousands of Belarussians are dying of cancer.”

“Perhaps I can turn the situation to our advantage. Instead of installing a useless lab, I will convince her to ship to Minsk the equipment needed for the environmental cleanup.”

“What about the sample analysis? It is required by the contract.”

“We will ask her to collect soil samples from Belarus and send them to Boston for analysis at her laboratory. It would be much more efficient anyway.”

16

To Love a Hero

Nicolai shook his head with a condescending smile. “If she’s young, she’s probably inexperienced. It shouldn’t be too difficult to persuade her to change her plans.”

“Don’t be so sure. From what I have seen so far, she is quite an independent lady.

Not used to following a man’s lead.”

“

Svenya

. Is she going to question every one of our decisions?”

“Who knows?” Sergei sucked in a deep breath. “I will have to ask John to send us a seasoned male Program Manager to coordinate the actual cleanup.” It was the only way to keep his promise to Sophia and help the multitude of Belarussians who counted on him.

“

Generalle

, about the entertainment…”

Sergei almost choked, remembering the gentlemen’s spa and its usual activities.

“Cancel. Cancel the whole evening.”

The colonel shrugged. “As you say, Generalle

.”

“Tomorrow, try to keep her away from Roussov. You should have seen that son of a dourak at the airport. His smiles, his friendly behavior. Disgusting.”

“Friendly? Roussov?

Svenya

. The man is up to something.”

“I don’t want him plotting with her. I won’t let him interfere in our mission.” If only he could prevent the damned colonel from attending tomorrow’s meeting.

“Pour us a drink, moy drouk

.”

His friend opened a closet and uncorked a bottle of vodka. He filled two shot glasses and handed one to Sergei. They raised their glasses and clinked them against each other. “To our mission, Generalle

.”

“To a clean Belarus.”

Of course, Sergei didn’t mind the lovely Cecile staying in Minsk as an assistant.

Forget the laboratory, Cecile. Help me clean my country and I will make it up to you

.

17

Mona Risk

Chapter Two

As the van passed through a wrought iron gate and navigated a paved driveway, Cecile got a glimpse of an imposing structure surmounted by a golden cupola. Tania stopped in front of a terrace surrounded by a colonnade and gestured to the white mansion protected by two black cannons.

“We are here. The Hall of Officers. In the old days, it was the summer residence of the Prince of Belarus.” A proud smile highlighted Tania’s lovely features. Cecile listened attentively while John seemed more interested by the pretty driver than her historical information. “Later on the Soviet Supreme used it as a meeting hall.”

After they climbed out of the vehicle, an officer met them on the terrace. “Colonel

Nicolai Nicouvitch.

Doubra outra

, good morning.” He shook hands with them. “Dr.

Lornier, welcome to Minsk and the Hall of Officers. John, good to see you again.”

“Nice to meet you, Colonel. I’m very impressed,” Cecile said with a chuckle. “You can’t beat this. A historical palace to host my first business meeting in Minsk.” Cecile turned toward Tania, still in the van. “Please pass on this suitcase,” she asked as she reached inside the van. “John, can I count on you to hand out my company’s folders?”

“Sure, sure.” John nodded his approval and she relaxed. By distributing the gifts himself, John was not about to forget the generous gesture of EnviroAnalytical

Laboratory. Her boss would be pleased.

“Allow me,” the colonel said as he grabbed the heavy piece of luggage containing the folders and carried it with as much ease as if it was an empty bag.

Cecile couldn’t say whether it was the cheerful welcome of the colonel, or the glorious sunshine warming her face that lifted her spirits. In contrast to the last evening and her harsh arrival in Minsk, the kickoff meeting promised to be hospitable, perhaps even pleasant. A light breeze ruffled her hair as she squinted at the three-story edifice and snapped her first picture of Belarus. Led by Colonel Nicouvitch, she and John climbed two flights of marble stairs, strolled through corridors and crossed successive waiting rooms before entering the famous Red Hall.

Cecile halted at the door, smoothing her hair with her fingers and scanned the unending gallery. “Awesome,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the majesty of the place. The red-carpeted room easily covered three thousand square feet. She recovered her voice and asked, “May I take pictures here?”

“Of course. Notice the Seal of Belarus.” Colonel Nicouvitch pointed to a wall decorated with a mounted knight in the center of an enormous medallion. An orange and green flag hung next to the seal.

18

To Love a Hero

With the colonel at her side, Cecile strolled through the twenty-foot space separating two parallel tables lined up along the length of the room. “Do you often meet in this hall?”

“Only on important occasions. We gathered here three months ago when our Major

Generalle was put in charge of coordinating the Belarussian-American project.”

Colonel Nicouvitch fixed a glittering gaze on the seal adorning the wall. Cecile realized he was reliving the previous meeting. “A momentous event for Belarus?”

“Oh yes. Dr. Lornier, you could have heard the applause that greeted the happy news all the way to the street.”

Such pride suffused his voice. She could almost picture the Major General receiving a standing ovation from his loyal officers. The general was a hero. A real hero. Long buried memories of another hero flooded her heart.

A commotion at the door attracted everyone’s attention. Several officers strutted in, a magnificent display of male perfection.

She was the only woman present.

As she reached her seat, Colonel Roussov waved at her, a congenial smile on his lips. She hardly had time to return his greeting.

“Lady and Gentlemen, please take your seats,” Colonel Nicouvitch ordered over the microphone. When everyone was seated, he announced, “The Major

Generalle of

Belarus, Sergei Fedorin.”

The Major General marched in, his stance regal. His shoulders seemed to widen as he reached his place at the center of the table facing her. The officers stood and saluted.

She remembered him as tall and handsome. Now, he appeared so imposing, so vibrant…and just yesterday, he’d held her in his arms.

The general returned the salute. A fleeting smile shaped his lips and a hint of a bow acknowledged her presence. She clasped her hands in her lap to prevent them from shaking. The handsome general reminded her of the picture she carried in her purse like a good omen. The young hero in uniform with whom she compared every man she met. Her father.

This was not how she’d imagined her first business meeting in Minsk. Damn it, she’d attended hundreds of meetings and conferences during her ten-year career.

Always assertive and prepared. Today, her emotions were wreaking havoc with the cool composure of a scientist and businesswoman.

Annoyed at herself, she breathed deeply.

Get a grip, Cecile Lornier

. He’s just another customer, even if he’s not exactly your next-door-neighbor type.

He picked up the microphone from the table. “

Doubra outra

. Good morning, Mr.

Gordon, Dr. Lornier, distinguished guests and colleagues…”

He focused on her face while insisting he counted on her to help his nation. “The radioactivity spread by the Chernobyl disaster has polluted our country. So many people have been affected by cancer. So many young lives have been destroyed. So

19

Mona Risk many loved ones are gone forever. We need to act fast. We need to clean our environment before more people suffer.”

His voice filled the huge room and her heart. Cecile winced, an added responsibility suddenly thumped on her shoulders. She had come to refurbish an old laboratory. Now the general expected her to share his fight against pollution.

John took over, his speech more or less a repeat of the general’s words. He waved a hand toward her. “Dr. Lornier, Director of EnviroAnalytical Laboratory in Boston, presented an excellent proposal and won the Belchem contract.”

Cecile grabbed the microphone with both hands. She tightened her fingers around it as everyone’s gaze converged on her. Her first international speech. She swallowed down her nerves and looked straight at the general. He nodded and she improvised a response, stopping after every sentence for translation.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m very pleased to be in Belarus. Refurbishing the

Belchem Laboratory will be a joint effort. Together we will establish an efficient, modern laboratory. I will explain my plans in detail after I visit the Belchem Laboratory.

Thank you for your warm welcome.” She smiled and pushed the microphone away, feeling back in control.

John presented gifts to the Belarussians on her behalf and the officers came to thank her. General Fedorin lingered a bit too long as he held her hand. He peered into her eyes, challenging. “This project may prove difficult. My countrymen rely on this contract for their health and safety.”

“I won’t let them down.” She stiffened, reading a mix of doubt and admiration in the look he leveled on her.

“We have several points to discuss but it can wait.” His gaze softened. “Right now, we need to celebrate the beginning of a successful working relationship.” He turned toward John. “I hope you and Dr. Lornier will join me in my office for a toast of vodka?”

“We’d love to,” John said with a bright smile without bothering to consult with her.

As she turned to follow General Fedorin, Colonel Roussov approached her, a cup in his hands. “I noticed you were rubbing your hands. This cup of hot tea will warm you up.”

“Thank you, Colonel. You’re very thoughtful.”

Roussov inched closer. “If you need any help, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll certainly do so.”

“I control the Customs Bureau. You will need a customs permit and my signature to bring the scientific equipment into our country.” He patted her shoulder in a paternal gesture. “My dear Dr. Lornier, I will be at your side during the project.”

But she didn’t want him at her side. Tania’s comments about his former KGB

function nagged her more than she wanted t o  a d m i t .  C e c i l e  t o o k  a  s t e p  b a c k  a n d

20

To Love a Hero summoned a formal smile, preferring to stay as far as possible from his hawk-like gaze.

“I appreciate your kindness, Colonel.”

Under furrowed brows, his eyes darkened. Was he assessing her? His mouth twitched. “I do not understand why the US aid consists of useless instruments. Our country could use food or agricultural machines to produce food.”

“But, Colonel, I thought your Ministry of Defense specified the requirements of this contract,” she retorted without bothering to explain the benefits of her project.

“Not the Ministry, Dr. Lornier. One man, the Major

Generalle decides whatever pleases him.”

She shot a glance at General Fedorin who stood by the door. He answered with a penetrating look, a silent message she wished she understood.

Roussov’s gaze darted in the same direction. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, his hand as cold as a snake crawling over her skin. “If I may confide in you. Fedorin is a ruthless womanizer with a lot of charm. My daughter was seventeen and innocent when he seduced her. She defied me and married him.”

“Your daughter? The Major General?” A shiver ran down her spine but she straightened her back and struggled to keep her cool.

“Yes, our Major

Generalle himself,” he rasped into her ear. “He abandoned her during her illness. She died alone, neglected and miserable.”

“I’m sorry for your daughter.” Her mind reeling, she tried to sympathize with the sorrow of an agonized father.

His tone hardened with a fierce edge. “He killed her as surely as if he had aimed a gun at her head.”

Roussov’s alcohol-tinted breath banished the oxygen from the air. “I warn you.

Fedorin is not to be trusted. Forget Fedorin. Forget this contract. Help me bring food and money to Belarus.”

Jolted back to the reality of her business, she eyed him coldly. She would never ignore her contract, not for Colonel Roussov or even for his handsome son-in-law.

“I have a contract to fulfill.”

“You remind me of my poor daughter. She was very naïve. Be careful, my dear.”

His paternal smile was back in place. “Anyway, I will be happy to support your effort and protect you from unwelcome people.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice stifled and unnatural.

He bowed and turned away.

Why would she need protection? And from whom, exactly?

Still stunned by the incredible revelation, she glanced at General Fedorin. He was watching her intently. She had trouble visualizing the noble Major General as a heartless husband.

21

Mona Risk

Before she could recover, Nicolai pulled her out of her distressing thoughts.

“Excuse me, Dr. Lornier, my

Generalle expects you.”

Cecile took a deep breath, wishing she could run to her hotel room to sort through the emotions churning in her heart. At the door, General Fedorin seemed to ignore

John’s monologue. His stern expression broke into a welcoming grin as she neared him.

He cupped her elbow and escorted her out of the Red Hall. John followed with the colonel along the dark corridor.

The general unlocked a door with a sculpted bronze key, entered a small antechamber and proceeded through a double set of doors lined with thick leather.

Cecile halted and examined the empty space between the two sets of doors.

“For soundproofing,” John whispered in her ear. “Special privilege for high-

ranking personalities.”

She’d expected the general’s office to be rudimentary, reflecting a military simplicity and was surprised by its classy elegance. The cherrywood desk, credenza, matching bookcase and cocktail table lent an aura of prestige to the spacious room. The general gestured to the brown leather sofa and chairs. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Cecile exchanged business cards with the two officers. Fedorin glanced at her card and shoved it in the drawer of his desk. While John settled in one of the leather chairs, Nicolai extracted a bottle of vodka and small glasses from a closet, then filled the shot glasses and distributed them.

The general raised his glass in a toast. “Welcome to Belarus.

Moy drouk

, my friends, I wish you a happy stay in my beautiful country.

Nazhtrovia

. To your health.”

The men emptied their glasses in one shot. Cecile swallowed a first sip. In Boston, she had tried the foreign liquor diluted with orange juice and ice cubes. Today, she experienced the burning effect of straight, unadulterated Belarussian vodka.

The general led Cecile to the sofa and sat beside her. “Dr. Lornier, you hardly touched your drink.” He chuckled. “Let me show you how to drink vodka. One of us makes a toast. You raise your glass and you swallow it all at once. Bottoms up, as you

Americans say.”

Nicolai filled a second round. John hauled his corpulent frame off his chair. “I

propose a toast to the success of our joint project in Minsk.”

The men chorused, “Bottoms up.”

She raised her glass, then emptied half of her drink and brought her hand to her throat. She could swear it was on fire.

Waggling his finger at her, John chuckled. “You cheated. You left half the vodka in your glass. With each toast, you’ll get better.”

“I’m a vodka novice,” she said in a pitiful voice, her face burning, her eyes tickling.

“How many toasts will we drink?”

John burst out laughing. “By the end of the afternoon, you’ll lose count.”

22

To Love a Hero

Cecile shook her head. “That was my last one.” As an executive, she had often shared all-male meetings and learned to stand on her own feet, never allowing anyone to intimidate her.

The general focused a pensive gaze on her. She raised her brows in a silent question.

“Dear Dr. Lornier, we won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. I would like you to stay for a few more minutes. Colonel Nicouvitch will explain some of the suggestions I have already discussed with Mr. Gordon during his last visit.” Turning toward John, he added, “Thank you for coming. We will see you at the Belchem Lab.”

John was responsible for her safety in Belarus. She tossed a quick look in his direction, expecting him to politely protest and stay with her but John nodded with a nonchalant smile and left.

After an uncomfortable moment of quiet, Cecile stole a glimpse at the general. How could he dismiss her colleague so casually?

Totally unaware of her discomfort, the general waved toward his colonel.

“Explain.”

Nicolai dutifully nodded. “A year ago, we thought about analyzing some samples collected from around Minsk in a European laboratory but the cost was too prohibitive for our government—”

“Dr. Lornier,” the general interrupted. “We need to find out immediately if our soil is heavily contaminated with toxic substances. We all know the refurbishment of the

Belchem Laboratory will not happen overnight. For the sake of our citizens, I would like you to send some samples for analysis in your Boston laboratory…” He paused and arched his eyebrows. “Although your project does not include this extra task.”

Cecile caught his intense gaze and felt her face flush. She didn’t appreciate his authoritative tone but for the sake of his citizens she wouldn’t take offense. She rubbed her forehead then pressed her thumb on her temple to dissipate the effect of the vodka.

The general’s request—or rather demand—would require spending more money.

Could she afford going over budget for this extra task?

“I’ll need to think about it without the boosting effect of the vodka.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Can we discuss it in a couple of days?”

Nicolai nodded. “Absolutely. You will let us know when you reach a decision.

Excuse me now.”

The door closed behind him.

She was alone with the general. She glanced at the door and then at her host. Was there anything else to talk about? And why had he sent John and Nicolai away?

Discussing business didn’t require privacy. Roussov’s warning came to haunt her. Her pulse accelerated. She bounced from the sofa, determined to follow Nicolai.

“Dr. Lornier, please.” Raising his hand like a stop sign, the general barred the way.

“When Mr. Gordon introduced you yesterday, I was taken aback.” The authoritative

23

Mona Risk edge disappeared from the general’s tone. “We are not used to dealing with women in international business. We assumed

Cecil was a man.”

Had he detained her to apologize for his officers’ blunder? Unsure, she leveled her gaze on his and waited for more.

“Please.” He gestured to the place she’d just vacated. Reluctantly, she sat on the edge of the sofa, waiting for him to deliver a trump card, while he settled in a chair across from her. “You are quite young for such an important contract. It is a difficult responsibility.”

Damn his condescension. It wasn’t an apology after all. He doubted her competence. “Believe me, General, my position was not handed to me on a silver platter.”

Far from it. How could she describe the frenzy of the last two months? The planning, the meetings, the brainstorming, the arguments. Cecile had hardly slept four hours a night while studying the best way to perform the project—and keeping Rob’s claws off her contract.

She tilted her chin up, determined to forget about the past two months and her ex-

fiancé. The patronizing wrap of Rob’s arm around her shoulders had knocked the air out of her lungs when he’d proudly announced he’d been chosen to head the

Environmental Division. The very position she’d worked so hard to reach, while the worthless bastard played golf every Saturday with the company VP.

“I competed against several executives—

all men

—for this contract. My proposal beat the others fairly. I was chosen by our Department of Defense to manage the project.” She released a deep breath, hating to sound defensive.

The general nodded with understanding. “Please, don’t read any disrespect into my question, just admiration and surprise.”

Cecile eyed him, not believing a word of his flowery talk. She wondered how many women had succumbed to his irresistible charm. The man was devilishly handsome and seemed to be an expert at smooth talking. Thank God, she was immune to this brand of attraction.

An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth. “We are two civilized partners.”

Two partners

? Did he think her na ve enough to trust his sudden acceptance? “I’m

glad to hear you say that.” She plastered a smile on her lips, wondering if she’d 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. She inhaled his clean masculine smell and a hint of the Old Spice he seemed to favor and remembered the feel of being held against his firm 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 and scooted against the back of her seat to maintain a poised attitude. “What is there to discuss?”

24

To Love a Hero

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 pursed her lips as 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 the 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 handsome 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.”

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

She clenched her fists in her lap, praying 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?

25

Mona Risk

“A petition, perhaps?” He faced her again, his eyebrow arching as he challenged her. “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. She had it wrong. General Fedorin was not begging or asking. He was demanding and expecting his demands to be met.

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, training her eyes on the chiseled nose and hard jaw. The staunch officer stood proud and handsome, 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?”

She closed her eyes, her gut twisting 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. But could they afford to wait so long?

The general rubbed his chin pensively. She saw relief flicker in his eyes. “Dr.

Lornier, we may be able to understand each other.”

Not exactly overwhelming support but maybe the beginning of acceptance. Pleased with this sliver of progress, Cecile smiled.

* * * * *

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

26

To Love a Hero

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 suppressed a smile 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

27

Mona Risk 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. A typical 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 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 jumped 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.

Dr. Kadelov, the laboratory director, waited in his office. John was already there.

“Welcome to Belchem, Dr. Lornier.

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—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.”

28

To Love a Hero

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. We are waiting to receive one through your contract,” said one of the chemists.

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

“Dr. Lornier, this is the lab you will refurbish.” The general waved his hand toward the room and the chemists watching them with awry looks. “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, demanding, “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.

The colonel frowned and then nodded. “There is one within walking distance of your hotel called ‘On the Szwifloch River’. It’s an elegant place for tourists, owned by my cousin. Excellent cuisine. My wife and I dined there for our anniversary.”

“In that case, I hope you and your wife will be our guests tonight. General, would you honor us with your presence?”

Cecile glanced at the general, expecting him to decline after their recent argument.

His gaze shifted from John to her. She boldly focused on his face, trying to convey her annoyance at his previous doubt of her capability. Their eyes locked. Too many things too complex for words buzzed between them and then amusement flickered in his eyes.

“Why not? I usually eat alone. I will be happy to meet you at eight o’clock.”

29

Mona Risk

“I will take care of the reservations,” Nicolai decided. “We will meet no political and military acquaintances there. Only tourists. My

Generalle prefers not to attract attention to his private life.”

The Major General of Belarus was apparently concerned about his reputation and public image. Why would he waste time going to dinner with her and John when he’d just proved he didn’t trust her professional capability? Did he think she’d want him around after he’d tried to limit her authority? She cast him a wary look as resentment simmered in her stomach.

John rubbed his hands. “Then it’s all set. We’ll have fun tonight.”

“Tania is not here yet. We’ll drive you back to the hotel,” said Nicolai.

During the drive, the general weaved colorful tales of Belarus’ history, his baritone voice soothing her into a more relaxed attitude as her anger ebbed.

As soon as the Army Jeep stopped in front of the Hotel Nievol, General Fedorin leaped out of the car and offered his hand to help her out. “I will see you tonight at the restaurant.” His eyes caressed her face while awareness hummed through her veins.

She tugged at the collar of her raincoat to protect herself from a sudden shiver and nodded before entering the lobby.

In her room, Cecile slumped into a chair, sipping her bottled water. The silence bothered her and she turned on the TV. Sitting alone in her room to watch a Russian program she didn’t understand held little appeal. Her rational mind summarized the incredible complexities of her lucrative contract. Men who didn’t trust her capabilities.

A gallant general who looked like the chivalrous knight of her teenage dreams. His resentful and cynical, or maybe suffering, father-in-law. And a pretty driver expert at having men flock around her. All in the same pot.

Would Cecile be the catalyst stirring this unusual mix into action?

There was already too much heat spewing from these volcanoes. “I’m not going to let them burn me,” Cecile swore. “From now on, it’ll be work, only work and nothing but work.”

Comforted by her own resolution, she lay down on the uncomfortable bed to indulge in a short nap before dinner.

Roussov’s warning echoed in her head like pebbles inside a tin can.

Fedorin is a ruthless womanizer…Fedorin is not to be trusted

…

30

To Love a Hero

Chapter Three

Cecile slipped on a long woolen skirt in green and navy plaid, a white silk shirt and green blazer. Old-fashioned according to Tania but politically correct for a professional scientist at a business dinner. Still, she took the time to curl her shoulder-length blonde hair, apply green eyeliner and brush on some mascara.

At six-thirty, she joined her group in the lobby. Tania, acting as guide and interpreter, led them to a nearby bank. “Change only a small number of dollars at a time,” she advised. “Inflation going up. Belarussian ruble going down.”

John tugged at Cecile’s sleeve before she reached the bank. “I hope you don’t mind my inviting the officers on your behalf.”

She frowned. “Huh?” What was he talking about?

“As a government employee, I’m on a strict budget. And the Belarussians can’t afford to invite us, or even pay for their dinner at an expensive restaurant. You’re the one with the contract. You can put the bill on your expense account.”

“No problem, John. I’m glad you invited them. Besides at the rate of exchange, entertaining them won’t cost much.” She added with a smile. “I still don’t know the customs of this country.”

“Speaking of customs, let me handle the bill. This is a private outing. It may irritate their sensitivities to let a woman pay for dinner.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged, not ready to make an issue of such a trivial thing, even if it irritated her sensitivity as an executive.

Cecile exchanged her money and they all walked along the river to the nearby restaurant.

* * * * *

“John, Cecile, this way.” Nicolai stood at the restaurant’s door, under the dim light of a flickering lantern. He seemed taller and slimmer in a dark, gray suit, his blond hair tamed backward and his thin mustache shiny. A petite woman with reddish-brown hair huddled close to him. “Please, meet my wife, Elena.”

“

Dubra noyte

,” Elena said shyly, “

Niet Engleshkee

.”

“Nice to meet you, Elena. Don’t worry about speaking English. Tania or your husband will translate for us,” Cecile said, wondering if the general had changed his mind about coming to dinner. A figure moved out the shadows. Cecile caught herself staring, hardly recognizing the smashing, businesslike gentleman, exuding an air of sensual authority and power. A navy suit jacket draped his splendid shoulders. The

31

Mona Risk white shirt and burgundy tie lent the perfect background for his tanned face. What a sight. In uniform or civilian clothes, the man was sinfully handsome.

“Good evening, Dr. Lornier, John.” The general shook hands with John.

“General.” She held out her hand. He did not shake it as she expected but instead raised it to his lips. Cecile’s mouth went dry and heat surged up her neck. Would she ever get used to his gallant welcome?

The general cupped her elbow and escorted her inside. “You look beautiful, Cecile,”

he whispered close to her ear.

“Thank you, General.” With a sigh, she lowered her eyelashes.

A business meeting.

Hmm, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

The hostess ushered them to a table in a dimly lit corner. Cecile sat between Sergei and John. The others settled across from them. Nicolai turned around, scanned the room with a rapid glance. “I checked the reservation list. There is no one of consequence here and no journalists.”

Tania translated the items on the menu.

“I’ve had more than enough vodka for one day,” John mumbled then ordered the local beer.

Cecile surveyed the elegant place. A mirrored sphere flickered with silver glints over the small dance floor at the end of the room. On a raised podium, a gorgeous s i n g e r  w i t h  l o n g  g o l d e n  h a i r  s a n g  w h i l e  s w a y i n g  t o  s o f t  p i a n o  m u s i c  p l a y e d  b y  a tuxedo-clad man.

The drinks came. They clinked their glasses, mingling the cheers and nazhtrovias

.

Cecile struggled to concentrate on the conversation. Not an easy task with the general sitting so close beside her.

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Minsk,” the general said, his gaze warming her cheeks like a soft caress.

“I’m sure we will. You have welcomed us with incredible hospitality. We appreciate your kindness,” she replied with a smile.

Elena asked through her husband if Cecile’s fall on the escalator had left any lasting bruises.

No lasting bruise but it was a fall Cecile wouldn’t forget as long as she lived. She smiled at Nicolai’s wife. “Thank you for your concern. The general caught me just in time. I felt better right away.”

Oh my God

. What had she said? She hoped no one thought she enjoyed being in his arms. Cecile glanced around furtively. While the others drank and talked, the general’s lips curled to one side. He hadn’t missed the possible double meaning.

Another wave of heat spread over her throat. Dang, there was definitely a lasting bruise on her senses. She took off her jacket and smoothed her skirt. As dinner was served, she fiddled with a lump of bread and avoided his penetrating gaze. She ate little, preferring the potato pancakes to the greasy meat. With the strong presence

32

To Love a Hero beside her, a different hunger built in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly thirsty, she gulped her beer and forced herself to participate in the general conversation.

Nicolai stood and tugged at his wife’s hand. “Please, excuse us. I want to dance with Elena. We don’t often enjoy the luxury of such expensive places.”

John followed suit and pulled Tania to her feet. “Come on. Let me shake my old legs.”

Cecile remained at her place. She took a piece of bread and balled it between her fingers. No one had mentioned dancing as part of this evening. She felt the general’s gaze on her.

No please. Don’t ask

. She was here to work. Only to work.

The general stood and extended an open palm. “May I have the honor?” She placed her hand in his and steadied her wobbly knees.

He swept her away from their table, toward the dance floor. He wrapped an arm around her waist, branding her with his touch. Blazing heat penetrated through the silk of her blouse. They mingled with the crowd, gliding around. Cecile floated on a cloud.

She was back in his arms. And not by accident, this time. At first, they moved slowly to the music, then he brought her closer and her body recognized with pleasure the rock-

hard chest. He tightened his hold. She almost groaned, her senses focused on the taut biceps pressing on her side. “

Crassiva

,” he whispered in her ear.

“Pardon?”

“You’re so lovely, Cecile.

Crassiva means pretty.”

“General, please. I’m here on business.”

“I’m not about to forget it. But can’t you relax and enjoy the evening, the soft music?”

“I am enjoying myself. Really, your hospitality is amazing.”

“Our hospitality?” He shook his head. “Cecile can’t you stop being the Program

Manager for a few hours? I’m trying to talk to you, to the beautiful woman I’m dancing with. Is it an unforgivable mistake?” His breath fanned her earlobe. She had trouble making sense of his words. Was it the result of the morning’s vodka, the beer she drank a moment ago, or the strong arms holding her pressed against his muscled chest?

“Tonight we should have fun. Tomorrow we will work.” He smiled at her, such a beguiling smile that she sighed. Her legs turned into jelly and her insides melted into delicious, hot syrup.

“Tomorrow?” she repeated in a whisper. Tonight she wanted to have fun, to forget

Rob, her project and the many obstacles waiting for her. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and curled around his neck.

“Yes. Tonight we celebrate, we drink and we dance.” The charm and sultry sexiness in his voice held her motionless. His finger traced a line along her forehead, circled her cheek and swept over her lips in a gentle caress. She guessed he expected her to raise her business flag, to hide behind the contract and their professional relationship.

33

Mona Risk

For the life of her, Cecile couldn’t pull back. She wanted to feel—just one more time—the strength of powerful arms holding her against the shelter of his solid chest.

Linking her fingers around his neck, she leaned against the muscled torso and relaxed, secure in his embrace.

He whirled around and danced them to the darkest corner of the dance floor. His lips slid from her temple to her closed eyelids, brushed her cheek and rested for a fleeting second achingly close to her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited and yearned for his kiss. But he pressed his cheek on top of her head and held her tightly. She swallowed a frustrated groan as she listened to the comforting thump of his heart and hung on his neck, almost forgetting to dance.

After a couple of dances, she thought she recognized an old piece of classical music.

“Is it by any chance ‘Strangers in the Night’?”

“I don’t know the name in English but it’s your Frank Sinatra’s famous song. Do you like it?”

“Well it’s kind of old.”

“Maybe old but special for us now. We are still strangers tonight. I’ll sing it for you in Russian.” Cecile forgot the goal of her trip and the illustrious identity of her companion as he hummed the classic melody with words she didn’t understand but felt deep in her heart.

The music stopped for an intermission returning her to reality. She disentangled herself and heaved a deep breath, fighting to tame her racing heartbeat. Sergei led her back to the table.

Cecile sipped her beer, her mind vaguely registering the boring conversation. The high pitched sound of Tania’s laughter pierced the din. In fact, Cecile was becoming quite annoyed with the pretty chauffeur and her manners. Tania giggled and flirted, smiling at John. Stimulated by too much alcohol and Tania’s lovely face, John alternated seductive efforts and off-color jokes.

Cecile frowned. In her book, Gordon, a married man, should not indulge in flirting.

To put things back into perspective and remind him of his better half, Cecile asked, “Have you been able to e-mail your wife?”

“I need to buy an adapter to access the internet,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow morning, Tania and I will go shopping. We’ll buy the adapters and electric heaters for our rooms. Do you need one?”

“Definitely. I’d appreciate both a heater and an adapter.” Cecile tamped down on her personal opinion. She shouldn’t interfere in his social life. John had the right to go shopping with his driver.

The music started again. Except for the general, her companions left the table to dance. Cecile turned toward the general determined to start a sensible conversation before he could ask her to dance again, before he made her lose her head on his shoulder. “Why are you so worried about being seen in a restaurant?”

34

To Love a Hero

“A few months ago, I was promoted to Major

Generalle

. I’m a public figure in

Belarus,” he said matter-of-factly while staring straight ahead. “Being too friendly with the American delegation can be misinterpreted. There are those who are jealous because of this promotion and others who lay all their hopes on my shoulders.” He paused and faced her, his eyes gleaming with dark-blue sparkles. “I dream of a modern Belarus, with enough work and food for everyone and a safe environment. Now, I need to translate my vision into action. Can you understand that, Cecile?” The words rang with patriotism and daunting responsibilities.

“Yes. I feel the same protectiveness—of course on a smaller scale—toward my lab.

General, I will do my best to help you provide a safe environment. I’ll set up the lab as fast as I can.”

“The lab is not enough, Cecile.” He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, “but let’s not talk about work now. Can you call me Sergei, please.”

“Oh.” She stiffened, convinced that the use of his name would make her more accessible, vulnerable. She couldn’t allow it. “I thought everyone used your title.”

“In public. Not in private.”

The music stopped for another intermission. The restaurant had become crowded with new patrons. John and Tania, Nicolai and his wife resumed their seats at the table.

The general stood and moved his chair closer to Cecile’s to let John squeeze back into his seat.

“I’m sorry,” the general said as his thigh rubbed against hers. Cecile choked on her beer. Her hand flew to her burning cheek and slid to her throat, her swallowing audible. Tolerating the general’s close proximity without betraying her attraction proved quite a challenge. She had to break the sensual spell that threatened to engulf her.

She turned toward Sergei. “If you’ll excuse me, tomorrow will be a busy day. I need all the sleep I can get.”

“I’m leaving too, Cecile. It’s already past eleven and I think I drank a bit too much,”

John said with a groan. “Tomorrow will be a full day with the visit of the Belchem Lab and the meeting in Dr. Kadelov’s office. Are you ready Tania?”

Tania pushed her chair out to leave. “It’s chilly now. Do you want me to get the car from the hotel to drive you back?”

“Of course not. It’s just a few blocks,” Cecile said as she stood to leave. “General, Nicolai, Elena, it was a lovely evening.”

“I will walk with you to the hotel then take the bus.” The general gestured for her to precede him then helped her with her raincoat. “Nicolai, I will see you tomorrow

. Dubra noyte

, Elena.”

They stepped out in the night. Her heart drumming inside her chest, she realized the general had cut his fun short to be with them.

35

Mona Risk

Sergei held her arm and led her across the street and down the stone stairs that led to the riverbank. John leaned on Tania’s arm as they followed behind them.

“Are you sure you can make it, John?”

“What a question, Cecile.” He straightened and accelerated his pace. “I’m very sober. Just a bit tired. The jet lag of course.” He passed Cecile and the general. “By the time…I reach the hotel,” he stuttered as he looked back over his shoulder, “I’ll be ready…for another round…if the general wants to join me.”

Sergei chuckled. “Not tonight, moy drouk

.”

“Mr. Gordon, wait here. I will get the car for you.” Tania took off dashing toward the hotel.

Cecile helped John sit and left with the general. Soon the lights of the restaurant and the street disappeared and the night swallowed them. Far above, a crescent moon sporadically appeared between the clouds.

Cecile shivered and gathered her collar around her neck then buried her gloved hands inside her pockets.

“You’re trembling.” Sergei removed his short leather coat and draped it around her shoulders. “This should help.”

“What about you? You’ll get cold.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m used to worse weather than this. Wait until our winter, then you’ll discover the true meaning of cold.”

Cecile snuggled into his jacket and sighed as the delicious warmth of his body heat and the scent of his Old Spice wafted around her. Sergei grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She felt sheltered and warm.

“Tell me, Cecile, how is it that your name sounds French?”

“Because it is.” She’d never talked about her personal life. Seeing his curious look, somehow, she didn’t mind telling him. “I was born in Paris of French parents. My father died during a military exercise, when the plane he was piloting crashed. I was three. Later on, my mother married an American and moved to Boston. They traveled quite a bit and left me behind in boarding schools.”

“So your father was in the Air Force?”

“And an ace pilot who tested experimental planes.” She paused for a second and stared straight ahead at the pitch-black night, recalling the loneliness she’d tried to bury, first under long hours of study and later in continuous work. She tilted her head, following her memories, then glanced at Sergei. “I learned to be independent and fend for myself. My mother brought me back to France every few years to visit with my grandparents.”

“Where did you go to school? In France or the US?”

“I did my undergraduate studies at Northeastern University in Boston but I spent my junior year in Paris. Later, I prepared my doctorate in Chemistry at Harvard.”

36

To Love a Hero

Sergei whistled softly. “A brilliant brain in a pretty package. No wonder you ended up as the Program Manager of our project.”

She chuckled, then sighed. The general excelled at offering compliments but she would still have to convince him she deserved the contract and her title.

Far above in the street, the screeching of tires alerted them to reality. She removed his coat and handed it to him. “I can see the lights of the hotel.”

He caught her hand as they climbed the stairs leading to the street. Sergei whispered her name, his voice a husky rasp. “Thank you, Cecile. Thank you for a unique evening.”

“Goodnight, General.”

He brought her hand to his lips, lingered on her fingers and trailed kisses to her wrist. “General, please.”

He cupped her face between his hands and deposited a light kiss on her parted mouth. “Sleep well, sweet Cecile.”

Her hand tucked under his arm, he walked her to the revolving door of the hotel.

Before she entered, he clasped her shoulders. “Be careful. Not everyone accepts foreigners here. Beware of General Roussov. He hates me. He could harm you if he links you to me. One can never be too cautious with my former father-in-law.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His heart overwhelmed with frustration, Sergei Fedorin watched the young woman rush away from him. He protected millions of citizens but could not afford the simple gesture of courtesy to walk this American inside her hotel. In his country, they would consider it high treason for their Major General to date a foreigner.

He sat on a bench beside the river and waited for the brisk cold to quiet his throbbing headache and cool his boiling blood. He wanted her so badly. Not only in a physical way—although he admitted to himself, she tied him into a knot with a simple touch. He wanted her presence but also admired her poise, her assertiveness and her self-confidence. She wasn’t afraid to tackle a man’s job.

Sophia had needed him. Cecile didn’t.

For the first time in his life, he enjoyed carrying on an intelligent conversation with a woman. If only he could date her openly, invite her out and take the time to know her and court her.

For one crazy moment, he wondered what it would be like to be free, to run away—

far away, to Europe or America—with the woman he wanted. Impossible dreams.

Exasperated, he slapped his thigh. He had become a controlled public figure, watched and scrutinized by everyone. A statue on a pedestal, admired and revered but not allowed to breathe, or love, or live a personal life. The Major General of Belarus had forever buried the Citizen Sergei Fedorin.

37

Mona Risk

Sergei tolerated it because of his love for Belarus. He had given his country his best years and would continue to serve it until his last breath. A bitter smile stretched his lips. How could he ever forget his patriotism, the nine million citizens who counted on him?

* * * * *

In her bed, Cecile rubbed a finger over her lips and smiled as she remembered the strength of his arms around her back, the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his lips on her cheeks. She closed her eyes, yearning to discover the rest of his powerful body.

Tonight, Sergei had trusted her and confided his patriotic dream. His life belonged to his country even more than hers belonged to her lab.

What future could they share?

The loneliness of her Bostonian life submerged her. Could she allow herself to taste happiness in his arms?

She hugged her pillow trying to think rationally. Today she had been warned twice.

Colonel Roussov had cautioned her against Sergei. The father, still mourning, seemed to have reason to hate the Major General he held responsible for neglecting his daughter, even on her deathbed.

But Sergei had also warned her against Roussov. Could the man who held her with so much passion be callous enough to let his wife die alone?

The question swirled in her mind, almost hurt her with its abrasiveness and grated on her nerves. She had to find out how his wife died.

* * * * *

After a full day of work at the Belchem Laboratory, Nicolai pulled Cecile aside. “My wife has asked me to invite you for dinner. You can ride with us in the military Jeep. I

have already spoken with John. Our generalle is coming too.”

She nodded with a smile. “Thank you. It’ll be a pleasure.”

As he turned toward the Jeep, Cecile tugged at his sleeve and threw a furtive glance toward the general. “Tell me. When Sergei’s wife was sick, did he leave her all by herself?”

Nicolai spun around, scowling. Irritation clouded his gaze. “Is that what his father-

in-law told you? Do not listen to Roussov. That son of a dourak is a corrupt man. He will do anything to destroy Sergei,” Nicolai said through narrowed lips. “Six months ago, our Vice-President awarded Sergei with the

Vallianskaya Medaal for his dedication to our mother country. He also promoted him to Major

Generalle of Belarus, at the age of forty.

Roussov almost burst with jealousy.”

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To Love a Hero

Her mouth curved into a smile. In her tedious routine and well-structured life, she’d never met exciting people. Working on the project took on a different perspective.

“But did she die alone?” Could the handsome Sergei, the hero of Belarus be so insensitive?

“Sergei was a young colonel on a difficult mission in a bloody war. He could not desert his position in Chechnya and leave his troops.”

The revelation punched her and she fell back a step. Nicolai grasped her arm. She realized he wanted to infuse her with his loyalty toward the general he admired.

“Sergei adored his wife. Sophia shared his patriotism. She never tried to hold him back.”

“But he let her die alone?”

Oh God, had he no feelings

?

“He couldn’t be with her,” Nicolai hissed. “His mother stayed with Sophia until the day she died. Sergei arrived in time to bury her. He did not cry but he broke several pieces of furniture in their small apartment. On her tomb, he pledged to cleanse our land from the Chernobyl pollution. Help him keep his promise, Cecile.”

Deep in her heart, she had known Sergei was innocent of Roussov’s accusations but hearing Nicolai absolve him filled her heart with relief. Nicolai helped her into the backseat of the Jeep. As she slid next to Sergei, she caught his questioning look and smiled without answering. This wasn’t the way she’d envisioned her Belarus trip. The contract she fought so hard to win was growing into something more than pure business. It was becoming a passionate mission. Sergei’s mission.

Half an hour later Nicolai and his wife, Elena received them in a small living room with a bay window. Cecile sat next to John on the red velvet sofa. Sergei leaned against the frame of the bay window while Nicolai removed shot glasses from the cherrywood wall-to-wall unit and filled them with the traditional vodka. He handed around the full glasses. Elena set several plates of home-cooked hors d’oeuvres on the table covered with a hand-embroidered tablecloth. With a bright smile, Nicolai raised his glass. “As you well know by now, in Belarus, we greet our friends with a toast.

Nazhtrovia, moy drouk

, my American friends.”

Cecile cautiously sipped her drink until she got used to the fiery liquid. She put down the small glass, her eyes watering, her cheeks burning. Toasting was now included in her job description but she needed to discuss one serious point before they became entangled in the vodka business.

She lifted a hand to request their attention. “General Fedorin has asked me to collect samples from around Minsk and take them to Boston for analysis at EAL lab. John, this task is not included in the contract.”

“You’ve got a fixed price contract. If you want to do some extra work to satisfy the

Belarussians be my guest. Your company will have to absorb the cost.” John shook his head. “Can’t you ever relax and stop talking business? I need a drink.”

Cecile shrugged. She didn’t care if they drank themselves under the table. John had answered her question with a sober mind. While the men downed their drinks, she

39

Mona Risk went to stand beside Sergei near the bay window. “It’s all settled, General. We’ll have your samples analyzed in Boston.” She’d met him halfway and agreed to one of his demands.

“So I heard. And you will assume the costs. My country owes you a lot.” He heaved a sigh, relief in his dark blue eyes but his lips remained stretched into a sad line.

“Please, don’t feel indebted to me. You heard John. I have the right to spend the contract money as I see fit. And he agreed that these analyses can be integrated into the project.” She placed her hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. “I know it’s difficult for the Major General of Belarus to ask for help from a woman.” Hadn’t John mentioned they thought

Cecil was a man? With male chauvinism ingrained in his culture, Sergei had probably never worked with a woman as an equal. Cecile hitched her chin to hide her disappointment.

“Oh Cecile, you are not any woman. You are the Program Manager who brought hope back to two million Belarussians.” A devastating smile replaced his bitter expression and banished the business conversation. He stepped closer and added, “A

generous and beautiful woman.”

His deep blue eyes glittered with unbearable intensity. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt almost dizzy with need. A deep quiver slithered to her stomach.

Her skin heated. His voice, his touch, his smell created a sensual ambiance that sent her world into a tailspin.

Outside the window, snowflakes twirled in a happy dance. Cecile wished she could walk out and cool off in the snow before she totally combusted. For the life of her, she couldn’t move away.

“Once the project starts, it will last for a few months,” Sergei reminded her.

She nodded blankly. “Yes, I know.”

“Will anyone miss you there, in Boston?” He stilled, fixing her with a strange look.

“Maybe the chemists, if they have problems.”

“No, I mean…” He rubbed a finger over her hand. “You are not wearing a ring. You are not married?”

“I broke my engagement three months ago.”

“You gave him back his ring?”

She glanced at her bare hand and tried not to think of the horrible day Rob had stolen her promotion.

“Not exactly. I dropped it in the flask of nitric acid sitting on the laboratory bench.”

Sergei burst out laughing. “In the acid? Hmm…excuse me. It is inappropriate on my part.” He cleared his throat and stared at her with obvious interest.

Cecile shrugged and looked out the window. “I’ve closed that chapter. Work is my life now.”

“I understand you. Since my wife died of cancer five years ago, I have lived only for my country.”

40

To Love a Hero

In his eyes, she saw a sadness that melted her heart. This man had suffered. For her own peace of mind, she preferred not to dwell on his feelings or her own.

“And now, there is no significant man to worry about you?”

No one had ever worried about her. Not even Rob, she thought with a frown of bitterness. Now at thirty-four, she steered away from any new commitment to concentrate on her work.

Sergei’s gaze locked with hers. With a jolt of pleasure, she noticed the anxious glint in his eyes.

“None.” She shook her head to emphasize her statement.

“

Cecilya

, I have never met a woman like you.”

Her cheeks suffused with heat at the intensity of his gaze. She loved the local accent he added to her name, Cecilya

. The unique way he pronounced it as if he were singing a

Russian melody. Tania had confided that every woman in Minsk was a bit in love with the Major General. And he was finding her different? Maybe special? Could it be true?

Mesmerized, she smiled. His hand squeezed her shoulder. She snapped backward.

God, how could she ignore her sacrosanct rules of never-fool-around-at-work and don’t-mix-business-with-fun? Especially after Rob.

She freed her shoulder from his hold and eased away. “General, we’ll work together on this project,” she managed to say, using his title as a protective barrier against his charm. “You’re my client, a business colleague,” she affirmed through clenched jaws, trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Yes, we share an important project. But I also want to know you.” Sergei raked his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting as he captured her gaze.

I’d prefer not to know you better

. Her heart thudded heavily as she leveled an uncertain look at his handsome face. His eyes reflected the same ache, the same longing.

He bent and whispered, “I wish I could take you in my arms right now, Cecilya

.

Keeping my hands away from you is a greater struggle than fighting on a battlefield.”

Her heart jolted. Heat suffused her cheeks and tremors flared in her belly. She leaned her forehead against the windowpane to cool her face and her thoughts. “Please, let’s go back with the others.”

He slid a hand to her elbow and guided her to her seat, sitting across the table to face her.

Their host refilled the glasses. More toasts followed. Cecile toyed with her glass.

Her companions’ laughter and loud conversation reached her through a daze.

Her gaze drifted toward Sergei. He didn’t urge her to drink, didn’t touch her or talk to her. His eyebrows arched in query. A searching look in his eyes sent heat seeping to her belly. Unable to withstand the silent exchange, she heaved an inward sigh. Ignoring the food on her plate and the alcohol in her glass, she struggled to regain her composure.

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Mona Risk

At the end of the dinner, Elena collected the dirty dishes. Cecile insisted on helping.

She needed to get away from Sergei’s burning gaze. “In America, we always share the cleaning when we’re invited to a meal with family or friends. Besides, I’m curious to see a Belarussian kitchen.”

A stack of dishes in her hands, Cecile followed Elena to the small kitchen, furnished with white cabinets and a marble countertop. Elena hand-washed the china, trying to converse in a jumble of Russian, English and expressive hand gestures. While Cecile dried the dishes and silverware, she smiled and nodded, not sure she understood.

As Cecile put away the last fork and turned to leave the kitchen, she froze. The general’s massive shoulders blocked the entrance. He stepped in and spoke in Russian.

Elena nodded and edged around him to the hallway.

Cecile gasped, stunned by his audacity. “You kicked her out of her own kitchen.”

“I very politely asked her if she would allow me a few minutes of privacy to discuss the contract.” Unperturbed, Sergei chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischievous sparks. He closed the door behind their hostess.

Cecile raised her eyebrows. “General Fedorin, the Nicouvitches invited us. We can’t just abandon them to chitchat in the kitchen.”

“Trust me. We will not be missed,” Sergei assured her with a shrug. “You can hear

Nicolai playing his guitar. And John is so drunk he can’t remember his name right now.”

Cecile couldn’t suppress her laughter. He’d locked her in the kitchen to discuss the contract? Her pulse accelerated. She was afraid to guess his intentions, afraid and thrilled.

Folding her arms, she tilted her head. “Okay, what’s so urgent about the contract?”

“The contract, hmm…” He hesitated. “The contract is starting well, as far as I can see. I want to tell you how much I appreciate the effort of the…of our lovely Program

Manager.” He stumbled on the words with a sheepish smile, then held her shoulders. “I

like her kindness. Her delicate beauty.”

A warm tingling crawled between her legs. Her calm assurance deserted her. She knew her assertive strength would betray her in a second under the onslaught of his charm and she’d melt in his arms like a solitary snowflake under glorious sunshine.

“Please, let’s go back.” She tried to disengage herself from his grasp.

“Wait.” Sergei stepped closer and enfolded her in his arms. “Cecilya, you have invaded my life and my soul. I can’t let you go.” He squeezed her against him and pressed blazing lips against her temple.

Cecile sighed, already consumed by his heat and her desire. How long could she fight her own heart and body? She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of firm lips and gentle hands. For a moment, she leaned against him, feeling cozy, cushioned by rippling muscles.

42

To Love a Hero

His hand played with a lock of her hair then caressed her cheek. She breathed in slow gulps, wishing and waiting for his kiss. His fingers brushed over the contour of her parted lips. Her eyelids dropped as she accepted defeat.

Sergei’s hand slid to her back pressing her against the hard length of his body. His mouth claimed hers, warm and demanding. She tasted the burning vodka on his tongue and looped her arms around his neck, welding her aching body to his muscular frame.

Although, she’d hardly swallowed two sips of her vodka, she felt drunk, intoxicated by his kiss and the liquor. She freed her mouth gasping for air and breathed in the mingled scents of alcohol and cologne.

She nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder, her fingers combing the hair at his nape. Sergei rested his chin against her forehead.

“

Cecilya

, we can’t wait for fate to hand us an hour here and there.” She moaned softly, sharing his frustration. “I need to see you…privately. I’ll ask Nicolai to drive you tomorrow.” He smoothed her hair. His hand slid to cradle her cheek. Like a kitten ready to purr, she rubbed her face against his palm. “Will you come?” His voice grated low with his urgency.

She nodded, without bothering to ask where they would meet.

His fiery gaze locked with hers, demanding and promising. Soon.

For one breathless moment, she realized she would give anything to keep his arms around her body and his lips on hers.

Then she sobered up.

What about the project she’d worked so hard to obtain? She couldn’t allow herself to forget her goal in his arms.

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Mona Risk

Chapter Four

Cecile snapped her fingers at the audience gathered around her. “We’re not here to chitchat and drink vodka.” Her sharp tone brooked no discussion. “Today is

Wednesday. You have exactly three days to clean and reorganize the lab. The proper way.”

Together with Dr. Kadelov and Colonel Nicouvitch, the Belarussian chemists listened to her directives with rapt attention.

“Alexander, please tell the lab manager I will perform an audit on Friday, before going back to Boston. I’ll hold him responsible for his staff’s performance.” Dr. Kadelov issued his own orders in a harsh Russian that sounded like barking.

There were a lot of da, da and okays echoing around her.

“Good,” she said assuming everyone agreed with her. “Now let’s start.”

Stimulated by her assertive determination, the local chemists followed Dr. Kadelov to implement her instructions.

Colonel Nicouvitch approached her. “Dr. Lornier, I need a word with you.

Outside.”

She left the lab and strode along the hallway to the front yard. John already waited in Tania’s van. As soon as they were out of earshot, the colonel came close to her. “My generalle wants to discuss your findings about the Belchem Lab.” Nicolai lowered his voice. “At seven-thirty this evening, I’ll pick you up and drive you to the Hall of

Officers, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, suppressing an elated smile. As she slid in the car she informed John she needed a good night’s sleep and wouldn’t join him in the lobby to go to dinner at seven.

* * * * *

“The Hall of Officers is almost deserted at night,” the colonel explained in a hushed voice as if the walls could hear. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if they did, considering the amount of precautions the Belarussians took to preserve their privacy.

They arrived in front of the general’s office. The colonel opened the door of the antechamber with a huge key and let her pass in front of him. The soundproof duplicate doors to the office jerked open.

Sergei was waiting for them. He smiled and brought her hand to his lips. “I’m glad you came.” He led her into his office and showed her to a chair. “I hope you had a good

44

To Love a Hero day, Dr. Lornier. Please have a seat and tell us in layman’s words how the laboratory reorganization is proceeding.”

He sat behind his desk. The carved lamp illuminated the area between them, leaving the rest of the room in dimness. Strange way to give an official report. She related her findings and her plans. “It’ll require a lot of work but we’ll eventually succeed.”

Sergei sniffed and waved his hand in a derogatory gesture. “The Belchem scientists are a bunch of lazy guys indulging in their everlasting researches. They need some military training to learn discipline and strict schedules.” He scowled. “Let me know if you need help to handle them.”

Cecile stiffened and eyed him coldly. “General Fedorin,   a m  u s e d  t o  m a k i n g

I

people—men and women—work. We’ll reconvene in a couple of days before I leave. By then, you’ll be able to assess our work and form a more accurate opinion of our progress.”

The general smiled the half-smile she was beginning to know well and tented his fingers. “Great, you’re never afraid of challenge. Now, how about sharing a drink and a bite?”

Sergei came around his desk and edged past her to open the closet on the other side of the room. He set a bottle of vodka and glasses on the cocktail table and brought a tray of black bread, sausage and caviar. Cecile peered at him through the darkness of the room and chuckled.

“You have a real feast here.”

“Come sit on the sofa. It is more comfortable.” He gave her a hand to help her out of her chair. She smiled, appreciating his ever-present courtesy and then realized the colonel had disappeared. She scanned the room, her pulse racing in discomfort.

“Where’s your officer?”

“He has gone home for dinner with his family. He will be back in a couple of hours and will drive you to your hotel.”

“He doesn’t mind being at your beck and call?” Cecile asked, somewhat bewildered by the low-key role the dashing colonel accepted.

“Nicolai is my most loyal officer and friend. I trust him implicitly. We grew up in the same neighborhood and attended the local schools. We joined the military academy together. Being a married man, the colonel can walk with a woman without generating gossip. People will assume you’re a relative or a friend.” Sergei shrugged and added, “Or even a lover. Nobody cares about the private life of a simple colonel.”

She heard the bitterness underlying his comments. “How about the private life of a general? Is it different?”

His lips stretched into a disillusioned smile. “For me, it’s quite a different matter.

Because of the visibility of my position, my every move is dissected. Any woman seen at my side is scrutinized. I can’t date a foreign woman, particularly an official envoy to

45

Mona Risk my country. The paparazzi would have our picture in the front page of every newspaper with a big title, Major General and American Program Manager… Stormy

Affair… Unpatriotic Business.

”

“Oh my God!” Oppressed by the lack of privacy, she twisted her head right and left, surveying the darkened office. “Are you sure no one is watching us, or hearing us right now?”

“Positive, my dear. Nicolai and I checked every inch of this room. We turned off the light bulbs that could be bugged. This lamp is safe.”

She trusted him on the subject of surveillance—more like the KGB spying in her opinion—and crossed her legs, relaxed against the back of the sofa.

He filled both glasses with vodka. “

Nazhtrovia, to you, Cecilya, my beautiful

American.”

No one had ever made her feel so special. For her colleagues and friends, she was the brainy executive they consulted and rarely dared to contradict.

Granted, she’d like the general to acknowledge her professional capability but right now she basked in his compliment.

Sergei lowered himself onto the sofa and clinked his glass to hers. As usual, he swallowed his drink in one gulp. A crooked smile appeared on his lips. Extending his arm behind her shoulder, he bent and kissed her. A light kiss, which made her dizzier than a drink of vodka. Her shot glass in her hand, she didn’t resist. He nibbled on her lips, then released her and refilled his own glass.

“Are you planning to make me drunk?” she jested, tilting her head.

He captured her gaze and shook his head with a large grin. “Neither of us will get drunk. For every toast, you will take a sip and I will empty my glass. How about that?”

She chuckled. “And…you never get drunk…right?”

“Absolutely right. A general should always be sober. As you well know by now, we

Belarussians toast a lot. Tonight I suggest we start a new tradition. We will end every toast with a kiss. I promise you an unforgettable evening.”

She swallowed, mesmerized by his suggestive words and his tender gaze. Would she survive unscathed after an evening in his arms? At the moment, all she cared was to experience the passion he offered. She raised her glass and wet her lips. “Can I make a toast?”

“By all means.” He touched his shot glass to hers and waited.

“To us,” she whispered with a strangled voice and sipped her vodka.

A burning fire lit in the deep blue of his eyes. He stared at her, downed the whole drink and deposited both glasses on the table. “You look so beautiful with your hair down and a silky shirt…less managerial…more vulnerable.” He enfolded her in his arms and stroked her hair, curling a tendril around his finger. “It feels like golden silk.

Why do you often pull it in such a severe bun?”

46

To Love a Hero

Cecile laughed. “I try to project the image of an older, strictly professional scientist.

Remember, I work in a masculine atmosphere and need to gain the respect of my colleagues. Some of them are male chauvinists.” She raised a dubious brow. “Isn’t it right, General?”

“Am I one of them?” He tilted his head, considering her question. “I’m sorry, Cecilya. I didn’t realize.” He gave her a sheepish grin and looked contrite with an endearing boyish expression as he couldn’t imagine himself as being chauvinistic. As her gaze lingered on the blue horizon of his eyes, she wholeheartedly forgave him.

“General, thank you for saying this. Your trust is so important to me.” Cecile reached and caressed the rough cheek.

Sergei pulled her onto his lap and crushed her against his chest. It would be so easy to let go and forget the world in his arms. She cuddled against his torso and anchored herself to the man she wouldn’t mind claiming as her own. Linking her hands around his neck, she held on to him as if she would never let him go. Tingles spread to her breasts and stormed her belly.

He rubbed her lips softly and feathered a caress that taunted and incited. Enflamed by desire, she allowed him to capture her mouth and parted her lips under the demand of his passion. His tongue invaded her mouth, playing and stroking.

With all her senses attuned to Sergei, she resolutely shut away the rest of her life.

One coherent thought twirled through her mind as she snuggled against him and clung to his shoulders, if only time would stand still

.

His hand slid under the jacket, toward her breast and cradled a lace-covered mound. He fondled and teased. Heat unfurled from her chest, spiraled down and focused between her legs. Her face flushed, her body ablaze, Cecile eased away, removed the blazer and nestled back against him.

He caressed her cheek and probed her eyes. She nodded her approval to the unvoiced question. He undid the pearl buttons of her blouse, peeled both sides away and spread a rugged hand against her breast. His fingers trailed over the lacy bra then slid under its edge. A quiver vibrated down her body. Her hand covered his and pressed it against her flesh to appease the tingling sensation.

His eyes mirrored her growing hunger. She raked her fingers through his hair and sought his mouth. Without interrupting her kiss, he reached around under her shirt to unhook her bra.

They glided down on the sofa and his lips drifted from her mouth to her throat.

Half-lying over her, he cupped both breasts in his palms, trailed his tongue around each tip in a blazing dance and suckled on a rigid peak.

Cecile forgot time and place, past and future. Her marvelous present encompassed one man, his sturdy body molded against hers, his gentle hands skimming her flesh and his sensual lips playing havoc with her senses. She moaned and squirmed against her magnificent man, swearing to keep her hero forever.

Far away a clock chimed.

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Mona Risk

Cecile suddenly froze. God, what had she done?

There was no forever in the Major General’s arms, only slivers of present, in his office… The same office where they met and worked every day. Cecile struggled out of his embrace.

“What is it?” He groaned, breathing heavily. With the tip of his finger he smoothed away the frown that lined her forehead.

“The colonel will be back any minute,” she said with a cold edge to her voice while gripping the top of her blouse.

Sergei leveled a sober look at her. “He knows better than to barge into my office without knocking. I will not apologize for taking you in my arms.” He helped her rearrange her clothing then reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Cecilya, my darling, I could kiss you and caress you all through the night.”

She had come to his office and slipped into his arms willingly. Why was she resenting him now? “We’re in your office. We’re coworkers,” she wailed as she scooted away and tried to recover her cool façade. “It doesn’t sound right.”

“Cecile, this office is my home

. I invited you to the only place where I could see you in peace, without worrying about curious or indiscreet ogling. I wish I could date you without restrictions. I wish I could spend hours with you.” He sighed, then poured more vodka for both of them and tapped his glass against hers. “I drink to the most beautiful hour I have had in a long time.”

She lowered her eyelashes. How could she blame him when she wanted him as much as he seemed to want her?

Sergei emptied his glass and gently smiled at her. “Cecilya?” His finger smoothed the lines creasing her forehead.

She inhaled and stared at him.

Cutting the bread and sausage, he prepared little sandwiches. “We had the dessert before the meal.” He fed her a bite. Dear Sergei, he was trying hard to restore her easygoing mood. “If you eat while you drink, your head will remain clear. Here, take another bite.” He gave her a mischievous smile.

“I’d think it’s a little bit too late for this advice.” She chuckled but she ate the rest of the sandwich and licked her lips. “Your black bread is delicious.”

“Try it with the orange caviar, another delicacy of Belarus.”

He filled the glasses. “

Nazhtrovia

, to the loveliest scientist to set foot in Belarus.”

Flattery tumbled easily out of his luscious lips. She arched her brow. “An hour ago you claimed scientists were lazybones wasting time in endless research.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I never disparaged this particular American female chemist.” He shook his head vehemently and gave her a heart-stopping kiss to prove his point. “Cecilya, you are very special to me.”

“Sergei, I’m sorry. I really enjoy being with you,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to…to…”

48

To Love a Hero

“Don’t apologize, please. I understand your feelings. I’ll come up with some better place for our next date.”

He still wanted to see her. A happy feeling danced in her heart. She didn’t protest a next date but she noticed the puzzled look he gave her.

“Why are you alone, Cecile?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Explain to me how such a gorgeous blonde, with stunning figure, lovely green and hazel eyes, is so involved in her work. Are your friends and your colleagues blind?”

Cecile chuckled, a blush warming her cheeks. “My last relationship with a fellow scientist brought only frustration.” She shook her head, commiserating at her failure to choose the right man. “My work is my life. I enjoy every minute of it.”

She could never give up her work, her career, the only staunch, permanent and immutable entity in her life. Men, lovers and friends, came and went and left her empty or hardened. So far, the challenge of her work and the success of her career had been exhilarating and uplifting. But now…

“Is work enough to fill a life?” Sergei’s voice echoed her thoughts.

Befuddled, Cecile tilted her head and frowned. Now, she had found a hero and she wanted to experience again the passion she’d tasted in his arms. She wanted to borrow happiness and fill the vacuum in her life. “I don’t want to lose you, Sergei.” She didn’t realize she’d voiced her innermost feelings until they echoed in her ears.

He took both of her hands and pressed them to his lips. “If it was up to me, Cecilya, you would never lose me,” he promised but they both knew there were boundaries and obstacles, even a powerful Major General and an assertive Program Manager could not predict or control.

What a mess. The Major General of Belarus couldn’t wreck his reputation by dating a foreigner. And she, the Program Manager on an official mission, couldn’t damage her career by fooling around with her client.

Yet, she’d dare the unthinkable. She wanted the inaccessible, powerful Major

General of Belarus with every cell of her body. And he seemed to crave her as much.

Damn their positions.

They heard a soft tapping at the door, followed by a loud grunting.

“Come in, Nicolai.” The colonel had returned as discreetly as he’d left. Sergei bowed over her hand. His lips smoldered on her palm and his tongue traced a fiery mark upon her wrist. “Good night, my dear Cecilya. Thank you for coming.

Spaciba bolchoi

.”

“Thank you, General, for the drink and…a lovely time.”

After a speedy drive through the dark roads, Nicolai dropped her in front of the hotel.

As she rushed toward the revolving door, a hand clamped on her shoulder and she shrieked.

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Mona Risk

“Dr. Lornier, I hope I haven’t scared you?”

The balding head of Colonel Roussov shone under the flickering light of the entrance door and his glittering eyes narrowed on her face. The man had scared her out of her wits. She bet he’d done it on purpose. Anger helped her recover from her fright.

She recoiled from him, jerking her shoulder out of his grasp. “Colonel Roussov, this is no way to accost a lady. I’m glad I’m not the skittish type. I could have screamed my head off and alerted the security.”

“Dr. Lornier, we both know that you are a strong businesswoman. Right? I admire you for that. It’s quite cold here. Shall we go in?”

He gestured for her to precede him inside the hotel. Cecile cursed his untimely visit.

She inhaled deeply to calm her jittery nerves. Spinning around, she entered the lighted lobby and paused. With a questioning look, she waited for him to explain his presence.

“Dr. Lornier, I came to pay you a courtesy visit,” he said, a benevolent smile glued on his lips. His lethal gaze reminded her of a snake trying to hypnotize his prey.

He ushered her toward the sitting area of the lobby and gestured to the sofa. Cecile hastened to sit in a chair. He squinted at her and lounged on the sofa. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of gloating about her distress. Forcing a smile, she continued to stare at him. He scowled and his smile disappeared.

He studied her for a moment and she let the silence drag, hoping he’d leave soon.

But he patted her arm. “You’re an amazing woman, Cecile. Now I understand why you were awarded this contract and why they all respect you at the Belchem Lab.”

She hated both his touch and the undercurrent of his compliment. “Colonel

Roussov, I like my title as much as you do yours. I’d appreciate if you keep using it,”

she insisted with an icy voice. “And I don’t like familiarity, Colonel Roussov

, even when you pay me a compliment.”

“I’ll remember it, Dr. Lornier. I have the deepest respect for you.”

“It’s very kind of you, Colonel Roussov.” She nodded and stood up to terminate the courtesy visit

. He heaved himself out of the sofa.

“Wait. I would like to invite you for dinner.”

Roussov, making a pass at her? She lurched forward, unable to believe her ears.

“Pardon?”

“In a restaurant,” he said with a snort. “We are two executives involved in the same project. You are helping my country. I want to show you my gratitude.”

Cripes, how was she going to extricate herself from this pothole? “Thank you for the invitation.” She hesitated. “But I must decline, just because we are working together.

People may view our getting together alone as unethical.”

And you are not Sergei.

“Dr. Lornier, you had dinner at Colonel Nicouvitch’s flat. He is also working with you. Right?”

“I see that you are well informed.” He was a suspicious man by profession. She suppressed a shudder. What else had he learned through his spying lamps?

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To Love a Hero

She averted her gaze from his bulky figure but he stepped closer and held her arm.

“As the Director of National Security, it is my duty to be informed of everything, Dr. Lornier. Everything.” She heard the hidden intimidation. “You will need my help as soon as your equipment arrives. I control the customs. My invitation remains open.

Think about it. Good night.”

He turned around and left the hotel lobby. She couldn’t forget, even for a second that he was determined to destroy the Major General. Her throat constricted, the joy she’d felt in Sergei’s arms overshadowed by Roussov’s threat.

Why the invitation? What did he want from her?

* * * * *

The next two days were spent in a whirlwind of activities. Cecile held meetings with Dr. Kadelov and John Gordon. She took notes, drew floor plans, videotaped the whole lab and evaluated the few computers. And did her best to forget about Roussov.

On behalf of his general, Colonel Nicouvitch extended an invitation to the

American delegation. “Dr. Lornier, the party will be held in your honor, on Thursday evening, at the Officers’ Club, a restaurant located on the first floor of the Hall of

Officers. Many officers will attend. We will organize a typical Belarussian banquet with dinner and music. Be prepared to dance.”

“Are you serious?” Cecile raised an eyebrow. Would they expect her to dance?

With their Major General? Talking about dance, her own pulse started a wild one in expectation.

“We always sing and dance at our soirées. And of course, we drink vodka.”

“Of course.” She chuckled. How would they perform without the indispensable vodka toasts? Flattered that the Belarussians would finally recognize her efforts, Cecile expressed her thanks to the colonel.

Behind her, John Gordon snorted her and pulled her aside. “Cecile, you know, of course, that you’re the one paying for the dinner?”

She calculated that at the rate of six thousand BR to the dollar, the dinner would not be expensive.

“No problem.”

“You bring your cash in rubles. Foreign currency is not allowed on the army premises,” John specified.

In the afternoon, Cecile stopped at the hotel bank in the lobby to exchange a couple of hundred dollars as suggested. The clerk gathered the change in bills of one hundred rubles. She stared mesmerized as he counted for ten long minutes. He secured individual packets of five hundred bills with elastic bands and shoved them into a plastic bag. “1.2 million rubles. Do you want to check the count, Madam?” he asked as he handed her the big bag.

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Mona Risk

She blinked—he looked too solemn to be joking—and smiled back. “No need for that, I trust you.”

“Now be careful when you walk with this fortune.” He glanced dubiously at her purse. “It’s not going to fit in there. Here, keep the plastic bag in your hand and hold on to it.”

“I’m not going to walk by myself. We have colonels and army officers to protect us.” She saw his eyes widening with respect for the rich American lady who could spend a million rubles and was driven around by mighty colonels.

Cecile handed her precious bag to John. “Here, macho guy, play the boss tonight and pay on my behalf.”

Around six o’clock, Tania drove them to the Officers’ Club. As they arrived, the place rapidly filled with officers. With a sigh of relief, Cecile noticed Roussov was not present.

Sergei came to greet them. He surveyed her flame-colored silk blouse and fashionable red and black skirt and smiled his appreciation. “Red suits you.”

Cecile let him lead her to the main dining room of the Officer’s club. He seated her at the center of the long table adorned with three vases of pink and red flowers and sat right beside her. When everyone settled according to the correct protocol, several waitresses poured vodka in the shot glasses.

Sergei unfolded his big frame and cleared his throat. He spoke in Russian while the attenders listened in reverent silence. The unintelligible words flowed over her. Cecile studied his handsome face, waiting for the interpreter to take over. Sergei’s voice rose and enthusiasm suffused his speech. She heard her name mentioned more than once.

The word robota kept on coming several times. The general concluded with, “

robota, robota, robota

.”

The interpreter translated the lengthy monologue and concluded on Sergei’s behalf.

“Dr. Lornier has insisted on excellent performance. She has repeated ‘we will work, work, work.’ And I greatly appreciate her effort in reorganizing the Belchem Lab.

Spacibo bolshoi

. Thank you, Dr. Lornier.”

The general waited, straight and proud during the translation and raised his glass for his first toast. “Dr. Lornier, Nazhtrovia.”

Like a well-orchestrated ballet, the guests sprang from their chairs, raised their glasses toward her and repeated, “

Nazhtrovia

.” They emptied the shot glasses in one collective swift motion. Cecile remained seated and brought the vodka to her lips, sipping slowly. She nodded using her newly acquired Russian, “

Spacibo bolshoi.

Thank you.”

When the guests sat back, John delivered his response and thanked the general for his hospitality and graciousness. Everyone stood again and downed the second glass.

Hierarchy played a role even for toasting. Nicouvitch gave a toast, followed by

Kadelov. John kicked her foot under the table. She stiffened and glanced his way. He winked at her.

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To Love a Hero

Cecile pushed her chair back and scanned her audience. Sergei encouraged her with a smile. Everyone’s gaze focused on her. In the pregnant silence that followed, she raised an almost full shot glass.

“General Fedorin, dear friends and colleagues, I can’t find enough words to describe my happiness at being here in Minsk to work on such an important project.”

She paused for a second and turned toward Sergei. “Tomorrow, the local chemists will collect samples. We will take them to Boston to be analyzed in our EAL lab, as you asked. General, I promise you that with the help of Dr. Kadelov, my staff and I will do our best to deserve your trust and from now on everybody will work, work, work.

Robota, robota, robota Nazhtrovia, .

to all of you

.”

In an emotional uproar, they cheered her and downed their vodka. The general took her hand and bent over it. He swiftly trailed a warm kiss from her palm to her wrist. “

Spacibo bolshoi, Dr. Robota

.” She didn’t need translation. He’d bestowed on her a name that, from now on, many Belarussians would use with respect when talking about her. In the middle of the noise, he murmured, “Thank you for the samples, my Cecilya.”

After dinner, the general and his guests adjourned to the club reception room. One of the officers opened an accordion while Nicouvitch adjusted his guitar. The music started, soft and languorous. Two of the officers began to sing. Their baritone voices enchanted her. She remembered that when Nicolai had invited her, he’d specified dinner, toasts, music and dance. Would Sergei…?

The general clicked his heels and bowed in front of her. “May I have the honor?”

She put her hand in his outstretched one. They danced in the middle of the hall. John followed with Tania.

“You’re doing a great job, Dr. Lornier,” Sergei said in a voice loud enough to be heard by the officers around them. A moment later, he murmured, “Tomorrow is your last day for this trip.” He raised his voice and for a few minutes, he jumbled loud neutral sentences with whispered words, holding two conversations with her at once, a private and a public.

“We count on you to restore the lab.

I need to see you

. I told my superior at the

Ministry of Defense they could count on you.

Spend your last night with me.

My officers will facilitate your work in every possible way.

Nicolai will bring you

. Thank you Dr.

Lornier

. I’ll miss you terribly.”

Cecile fought to maintain her cool composure. Being in his arms and acting in a businesslike manner was exhausting. She eased away and smiled playing the game.

“Yes, General, it’ll be as you say…

I’ll miss you too

.”

53

Mona Risk

Chapter Five

The wind tossed back her raincoat hood and the icy rain slapped her face and drizzled down her neck. Cecile shivered and wrapped her coat tightly around her. John followed her from the van and proceeded up the tilted marble stairs of the Belchem Lab.

Dr. Kadelov darted down and extended a courteous hand to help her inside the building. “

Dubra outra, Good morning

. Dr. Robota

.”

Cecile tried to tidy the rumpled and wet strands plastered to her forehead. As she shoved her gloved hands into her pockets, she forced a smile. “Good morning, Alexander. Is everything ready?” she mumbled through chattering teeth. “Today is our last day in Minsk. We will wrap up the work.”

“Yes, da.

My lab manager will update you on the chemists’ progress to organize the lab. Then, you can proceed with your audit.”

“Great. I’d like to start our meeting as soon as possible.”

Alexander nodded. “

Da

, okay, niet problema

, no problem.”

They went down the long dark corridor. Kadelov activated the lock combination to the laboratory. The five chemists came to greet them and gathered around Tania, monopolizing her attention and speaking in Russian. Cecile tried to detect familiar words out of the cacophony as she removed her wet raincoat. She understood from the interpreter that the chemists had followed her instructions and worked very hard to clean their laboratory.

She rubbed her hands and shivered again. “I don’t know how they work in such a cold place. I’m always freezing.”

“Dr. Lornier, the Belchem chemists would like to invite you and John to tea and cake in the manager’s office before you start the lab round.”

With a genuine smile of gratitude, Cecile acquiesced. “A cup of hot tea would be heaven right now.”

General Fedorin and Colonel Nicouvitch arrived on time to share their little celebration.

“Good morning, Dr. Lornier,” Sergei said with an official voice and a warm gaze.

“

Dubra outra, Dr. Robota

.” Nicolai grinned. “Did you recover from last night’s party and our many toasts?”

She nodded with a smile. “Good morning. You sure know how to throw a great party. I had a lot of fun and I feel fine.”

They crowded the small room where innumerable books piled up to the ceiling and cluttered the bookcase and the desk. A cleared area accommodated an antique copper

54

To Love a Hero samovar, the china cups and several plates. One of the chemists poured the tea and pointed to the food. Tania translated. “Help yourself. We have cake, cookies, cheese and black bread.”

Cecile, touched by their hospitality and their eagerness to please her, rotated the hot cup between her hands and swallowed the boiling tea. At last, a warm feeling seeped into her bones. “Thank you.

Spaciba bolchoi

. I feel much better. You’re all so nice. I’m falling in love with this place and its people.”

And one particular Major General

. She tasted the cake and licked her lips. “The cake is delicious.”

The chemists understood her body language and limited vocabulary and beamed at her approval. Cecile finished her tea and glanced at the general. “Thank you, my friends. I appreciate your hospitality. Now I think we should start our daily work.”

While the chemists and their manager shuffled back into the lab, Kadelov ushered his guests toward his office. John and Cecile sat in front of the desk, waiting. The

Belarussians officers lagged behind, still conversing. With a quick flip of the wrist, Cecile looked at her watch and strummed her fingers on the desk. “Gentlemen, we can start as soon as you’re settled.”

John waggled a finger under her nose. “Cecile, let it never be said that you waste one single minute of your precious working time.”

“John,” she said, with a brisk edge to her voice. “I have a contract to fulfill and a lab to refurbish in a limited time.” She spun toward the lab director and made an effort to soften her tone. “Dr. Kadelov, we need to add four more chemists to the laboratory staff. I’d like to see resumes and interview the applicants. I’ll hire them myself.”

“That can be arranged. I will provide a dozen resumes before you leave. The next time you come, you can carry on the interviews and the hiring.”

She nodded her thanks and caught the fleeting smile lingering on the general’s lips.

He seemed impressed—or amused—by her authoritative tone.

John huffed with impatience. “Alexander, for heaven’s sake, get on with your report before this Dr. Robota chastises us for laziness.” He banged the table with his beefy wrist. “And please, now that we’re all good friends bonded by innumerable vodka toasts, can you speak in English? It’ll shorten your speech by half the time.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, official speeches have to be delivered in Russian.” Kadelov pointed to the lamps hanging from the ceiling and shrugged. They understood the silent comment. His office still carried the surveillance system installed by the former

KGB. And the officers in the Bureau of National Security needed to hear solid Russian.

The general approved. “By all means, Dr. Kadelov, proceed in Russian.”

John grimaced and scowled at the spying lamps. “Well, if you have to talk in

Russian, at least cut the crap,” he mumbled in a grumpy voice. “I warn you, my threshold for listening—whether in Russian, English or both—is ten minutes. After that

I start snoring and that is difficult to translate.”

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Mona Risk

With a big grin, Kadelov negotiated his report at a hundred words a minute. Tania scribbled as fast as she could and translated at the same speed. Satisfied, John leaned against the back of his chair. Cecile smiled and jotted some notes.

After precisely ten minutes, Kadelov stopped, glimpsed at his watch, inhaled and exhaled, triumphant as a runner breaking his personal record. John clapped his hands.

“Great speech, Dr. Kadelov,” he declared with a thunderous voice while glaring at the spying lamps. “Excellent work, highly commendable. And now, with your permission, General Fedorin, let’s inspect the lab. I need to move my stiff legs.”

With Alexander leading the way, they strolled back along the cold dark corridor.

The general retained Cecile behind the group. “Dr. Lornier, I hope you’ll be satisfied with the lab improvements.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I would like to see you tonight. Nicolai will pick you up in his old Volvo at seven-thirty and drive you to my flat. He will bring you a local coat and chapka, a Russian hat, to avoid attracting attention while going in my building.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have my own. I planned to buy some clothes anyway,” she replied in the same hushed way, then raised her tone. “With the Belchem Laboratory ready, General, we’ll be able to expedite the equipment as soon as we return to Boston.”

The group dispersed between the various labs. Cecile caught up with John for the official audit. They spent two hours noting the positive changes.

The glassware was neatly arranged on shelves. The refrigerator harbored only chemicals—no illicit vodka hidden in a corner. The Bunsen burners were tucked under the big hood and the benches, free of clutter, reminded her of her impeccable EAL lab.

Kadelov followed on their heels. Every time they stopped to examine an item, he would anxiously ask, “Okay?” then beamed with delight when Cecile or John nodded their approval. There was still room for improvement but her serenity, handily restored by the general’s request, prompted her to show leniency. She congratulated the

Belchem Lab supervisor and chemists for their tremendous efforts at cleaning and reorganizing their laboratories.

Continuing her audit with John, she inspected the few computers. She had installed new software and asked the technicians to practice. Instead of playing games, they were now writing letters and preparing their grocery lists.

Serious progress

.

They regrouped into Dr. Kadelov’s office. Jubilant, Alexander Kadelov rubbed his hands. “So, Dr. Robota, are you pleased? Have we passed inspection? Can we expect to receive the instruments on time?”

“There is still room for improvement but right now I’m very satisfied.”

“In that case, let’s celebrate the achievement of my staff with a little toast and a light lunch,” Dr. Kadelov suggested.

Cecile shook her head. “

You can celebrate. I’m stealing Tania to do some last-minute shopping. Women’s shopping.”

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To Love a Hero

“Go ahead, my dear,” John said with a yawn. “Nothing bores me more than shopping with my wife. She spends hours choosing and trying on dresses.” A chorus of male voices agreed.

Cecile stretched a hand toward the lab director. “Dr. Kadelov, will I see you tomorrow at the Hall of Officers? As soon as the equipment arrives in Minsk send me a fax. Do you know who’s going to transfer it from the airport to the lab?”

Before the lab director could answer, John raised a hand. “The equipment is EAL’s responsibility until it’s installed in the lab. Therefore when Kadelov informs you of its arrival in Minsk, Cecile, you will come to retrieve it from the airport and Colonel

Nicouvitch will help you clear customs.” He turned toward Kadelov. “And you will arrange for transportation. It’s a joint effort my friends, I will accompany you to inspect the procedure. Does that answer your question, Dr. Lornier?”

“Perfectly well. Until then, gentlemen.” She headed to the door.

“Hey, I’ll see you at seven in the lobby for dinner and fun.” John rubbed his hands.

“Remember, it’s our last night in Minsk.”

As if she could ever forget it! It was her last night with Sergei for this trip. And who knew when she’d be back in Belarus. She hadn’t been able to fully concentrate on the audit with that thought swirling in her mind.

Cecile halted and grimaced. “Maybe I won’t be up to staying out late after hours of shopping. If you don’t see me in the lobby, don’t wait for me. And don’t get too drunk.”

The general stood. “Gentlemen, continue your work and your celebration. I’m going back to the Ministry of Defense.”

Cecile walked out to the corridor followed by the general. John’s last words, diffused but clear, reached her through the open door. “She doesn’t have anything else in mind but work. Such a pretty woman. What a waste.” She could imagine the

Contract Director shaking his head. There were no comments from the Belarussians.

Raising an upset brow, she glared at the door. The general touched her shoulder.

“Let them think what they want. It is better this way. We will enjoy our evening in peace.” He winked at her. “But I share John’s opinion. It would be a waste to leave such a pretty woman alone.”

She shrugged and grinned, reassured.

They found Tania in the hall. The general strolled to his Jeep. Cecile followed Tania to the van. “Tania, I need to buy winter clothes. Take me to your best stores. John will return with Colonel Nicouvitch.”

The girl smiled with enthusiasm. “All right! We’ll do some women’s shopping. I

know two nice boutiques.”

It was still drizzling and cold. Tania darted to open the car doors and turned on the heating. Warm air suffused the small space. Between May and November, a good-

running car could be the only place to revitalize a freezing body. Cecile leaned against the back of the seat and relaxed in the cozy haven.

57

Mona Risk

Delighted with the opportunity to tour the expensive stores, Tania maneuvered the spotless VW with speed and dexterity. She avoided the major arteries of the capital and detoured through the almost empty streets of residential areas.

“You finished work early today. Is everybody going back to the hotel now?” she asked curiously.

Cecile shook her head. “The men are having drinks in Dr. Kadelov’s office. It’s our last night here.”

“We will miss you, Dr. Lornier. I hope you will return soon.”

“Probably.”

As soon as I possibly can

. Cecile sighed. Being away from Sergei was going to be terribly hard. “I have to receive the equipment and deliver it to the lab.”

Tania slowed down and came to a complete stop in front of an elegant store with well-lit window. “I’m sure you will like this place. But it’s expensive. I’ll bargain for you,” Tania said with aplomb.

They spent two hours visiting the boutiques. Cecile examined the coats and modeled in front of a mirror. Tania circled around her like an excited puppy, offering comments and suggestions.

Cecile selected a brown coat that fell to mid-calf. “How do I look?” She pirouetted in front of Tania.

The girl approved with a big smile. “I like the mink collar that crosses over the chest to double-button at the waist. And the wrists are trimmed with the same fur. Elegant and warm. You won’t freeze all the time.”

The salesperson suggested a Russian mink hat to complement the coat. Inspired by her chauffeur, Cecile bought a pair of leather boots with heels three inches high. Tania applauded. “That’s the way to go.”

“Not at all my style,” Cecile lamented.

Tania shook her head with importance. “You may be a great chemist, Dr. Lornier but when it comes to clothes you need some serious coaching. Next time you come to

Minsk, don’t bring those shapeless suits. I will take you for more shopping.”

Bemused by the girl’s honest effrontery, Cecile gasped. “Tania, what are you saying?”

“Dr. Lornier, trust me when it comes to fashion. You should see some of the elegant women I drive around, foreign women, rich ones and even our vice-president’s wife.

They know how to dress. Nothing flashy but so becoming and fashionable. I will teach you how to enhance your figure.”

With narrowed eyes and an inquisitive look, the pretty guide scanned her from top to bottom. “You’re not bad at all, Dr. Lornier.” Tania gave her diagnosis with a naïve indulgence. “Regular features, interesting eyes, gorgeous hair. You’re tall and slim with good curves and…and I don’t understand why you insist on hiding your shapely legs.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Dumbfounded, Cecile gave up on arguing. “I’ll let you help me on my next trip when I have more time.”

58

To Love a Hero

At the actual exchange rate of the Belarussian ruble, her purchases cost her ten times less than in Boston. Yet, Tania insisted on bargaining and lowering the price. On a sudden impulse, Cecile asked her guide to choose a jacket and presented it to her.

Back in the hotel, Cecile thanked and hugged her fashion consultant who assured her she had enjoyed herself tremendously.

“Thanks for the jacket.” Tania gave her a brilliant smile. “We have handsome officers around here. I will light a candle for you to find a good man.”

Taken aback by the so-close-to-real-life suggestion, Cecile opened her mouth and closed it without uttering a sound. A handsome officer—and very good man—was waiting for her.

But was she ready for him?

* * * * *

Today’s meeting with the ministers’ cabinet proved to be a particular challenge. As soon as Sergei entered the Minister of Defense’s office, he paused, noticing with annoyance Colonel Roussov ensconced in a large chair. The syrupy voice of his former father-in-law grated on his ears. “

Dubra deen

, Fedorin. We don’t see much of you these days. Too busy with the Americans.”

Sergei managed a blank expression. “They are here only for a week to assess the

Belchem Lab.”

“Too young and too pretty, this woman. Can’t you ask the Contract Director to replace her with someone more substantial?”

Embarrassment eating at his heart, Sergei remembered he had shared the same opinion not long ago. Roussov’s eyes narrowed on him. His former father-in-law remained true to his character. Like a cat that enjoyed playing with a mouse, Roussov cast doubts on Cecile’s capability, then watched for Sergei’s reaction. But Sergei was no mouse. He clenched his fists and jammed them into his pockets.

“So far there’s no reason to replace her. She had planned a total reorganization of the lab. Everyone works hard in order to meet the deadline she’d set. The Belchem chemists have nicknamed her Dr. Robota—Dr. Work.” He quirked an eyebrow, daring

Roussov to contradict him.

To Sergei’s annoyance, the Minister of Defense grimaced. “Well, Fedorin, we all know that a woman—and I heard this one is just a young girl—can’t manage a big contract. Isn’t it an offense toward our country to send such an inexperienced Program

Manager?”

Sergei noticed the triumphant gleam in Roussov’s eyes at the minister’s negative comment. He hated to be forced to defend Cecile and to reveal with a wrong word his attraction to her. Yet he couldn’t let them belittle her efforts and his leading role in the contract. He turned toward his boss and purposely ignored his father-in-law.

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Mona Risk

“Minister Anatov, both Mr. Gordon and Dr. Lornier understand their responsibilities and work accordingly. I suggest we give them time to prove themselves before protesting too loudly.”

“Do you really mean the lady Program Manager is able to handle the scientists of the Belchem Lab?” the Vice-President of Belarus asked with utter disbelief.

“Amazing,” the Minister of Foreign Affairs exclaimed while shaking his head.

The Minister of Environment rubbed his hands. “Great. Major General Fedorin, I’m very pleased to hear our project is well under control.”

“And I am very pleased with the progress accomplished in less than a week,”

Sergei said, his voice oozing with self-confidence.

His reassurance seemed to reach the Vice-President. “We will give them the time needed for their task but warn them that I want to see results as soon as possible.”

The VP stood, signifying the end of the meeting. Both Sergei and his former father-

in-law left the room.

So far, Sergei had controlled his temper and avoided retaliation at the verbal daggers expertly aimed by the colonel. In the hall, Roussov dropped all pretenses.

“You’re going at it again? Another woman falls prey to your powers of seduction. I

thought her smart enough to resist you.”

Sergei forced a nonchalant smile to upset his enemy. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Dr. Lornier is a businesswoman and a scientist interested only in her work.”

“I’m the Director of National Security. It’s my duty to know everything,” he said with importance.

“By all means, do your job, Roussov.” Sergei spread his arms and snorted. “Spend your day listening to all your spying devices if that amuses you.”

Roussov raised his fists. “I will get you, Fedorin. I swear if it’s the last thing I do on

Earth, I will see you fall. Ungrateful bastard.” He roared. “My wife helped your mother when your father died. And I looked after you for two years.”

“You didn’t do a damned thing for me. Your wife was a wonderful woman and I

loved her dearly. We both know you abused her and Sophia,” Sergei hissed between his teeth.

“You damn fool, you interfered with my plans for my daughter and seduced her.

Then you let her die alone,” Roussov shouted.

“Stop it, old man. Stop your lies. You know we loved each other. I married her and we lived happily together. I was stuck in the Chechnyan war when she died. But you

were here and never bothered to see her in all those years.”

Sergei spun around and stomped toward his office. He needed a strong cup of coffee. The visceral hostility of Colonel Roussov had added a throbbing pain to an already growing headache. This man was his cross to bear, a cross he accepted in memory of Sophia.

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To Love a Hero

But he wouldn’t let Roussov ruin his mood.

He sucked in a deep breath and erased the grim thoughts to concentrate on planning his evening. Tonight was special.

In his office, Sergei removed his jacket, loosened his tie and yanked off his boots.

No one dared to question why the powerful Major General Fedorin chose to live under such Spartan conditions when he could afford more luxurious accommodations. His officers speculated he’d abandoned his former apartment after his wife’s death. The fact was nobody—except Nicolai—remembered ever seeing General Fedorin living anywhere else than in his offices at the Ministry of Defense and the Hall of Officers.

A light knock on the door announced the secretary and a much needed cup of coffee. Sergei sat at his desk. “Eugene, you can go home now. I’m too tired to work tonight. Tell the Jeep’s driver I won’t need his services until tomorrow evening. I may go with the officers to the Gentlemen’s Spa and will return very late.”

“Yes, my General. I hope you’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

Sergei knew that his decision to dismiss them early would not surprise his secretary or the Jeep’s driver. They were used to their general taking off with his officers on a long wild night almost every Friday.

The Gentlemen’s Spa provided good relaxation to sore muscles but also plenty of booze and terrific entertainment followed by discreet companionship for the night. The door closed behind the secretary. Sergei sipped his coffee and smiled.

Tonight, he would have a very different agenda. He had asked Nicolai to bring

Cecilya to his flat, his personal apartment where he rarely set foot. He wanted Cecilya in his arms and he promised himself that their first night together would provide her with memories she would cherish forever. He spent the next half-hour planning their evening and night.

Heavy boots pounded in the corridor. He opened the door to greet Nicolai and grabbed his long gray coat. They walked out of Sergei’s office, exiting through the main gate of the Ministry of Defense and automatically returning the guards’ salute. Sergei stopped a taxi and ordered the driver to take them to Nicolai’s apartment. His colonel’s wife and children were out visiting the grandparents.

Sergei changed into civilian clothing and joined his friend in his Volvo. “I left my uniform at your place. I will stop and get it tomorrow.”

“No problem.” Nicolai drove him to the market. “Enjoy your evening, my

Generalle

.”

They shook hands. Sergei clasped Nicolai’s shoulder. “Thank you, moy drouk

. I

count on you. Here is the key. Give it to her. Be careful.”

Sergei strolled toward the market. It had been ages since he’d freely roamed in a public bazaar. He bought meat, potatoes and cake, collected several bottles of clear vodka and wine. After standing in line to pay, he returned to pick up a bouquet of red carnations.

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Mona Risk

His arms loaded with two big bags, he waited for public transportation. Nothing differentiated him from the crowd that swarmed toward the bus. His athletic body covered by the heavy gray coat and part of his face concealed by the black fur chapka

, he stood in a corner, turned his back to the riders and watched the cars pass by.

The bus dropped him two blocks away from his building. He walked briskly and entered the dark lobby. The elevator stopped at the seventh floor and Sergei opened the door to his apartment and his memories.

A rancid smell of confined air emerged from the dark place. He flicked on a light switch and strode straight to the tiny kitchen to dump his bags on the narrow countertop and open a window. He welcomed the freezing air.

Nothing had changed in the small flat, the narrow bedroom, the hall used as living room and dining area, the bathroom cramped with a toilet, sink and shower, the kitchen where two people could squeeze with difficulty.

It was all there, exactly as he’d left it five years ago but somehow everything looked different, older and inadequate. The gray sofa seemed darker, the dining table smaller and the lamp weaker.

His finger slid over the wooden back of a chair, sweeping up a heavy layer of dust.

He scowled, upset at his negligence. Sophia’s cheerful apartment was falling into decay.

But Sophia was no more and tonight he would turn the page.

Sergei removed his coat, jacket and tie. He went back to the kitchen to fetch a rag and attacked the furniture with the same frenzy and tenacity he deployed in a battlefield. He wiped and dusted the furniture, mopped the floor, fluttered clean sheets on the bed and spread an embroidered tablecloth on the table.

He closed the kitchen window. Cecile was sensitive to the cold and tonight he wanted her warm and relaxed. Pleased with himself and his domestic accomplishments, he arranged the flowers in a vase and set it in the middle of the table while whistling a Russian melody.

He surveyed the bedroom and froze. A large frame with the picture of a happy smiling couple adorned the chest. Since Sophia had died, five years ago, Sergei had worshipped this picture. He reached for the frame then hesitated, as if he was afraid to commit a crime. His fingers caressed the picture with reverence. He would never forget her. He fixed his gaze on the image of the frail wife he had loved so much.

Forgive me, my angel. Please, allow me to live again.

He waited for a crazy moment, expecting his angel to answer. He hauled a heavy breath and hid the frame in the top drawer. Two other smaller pictures disappeared in the same way from the living room corner table.

Sergei plugged in his old record player and music filled the room. He checked his watch. It was six-thirty. In an hour Cecilya would be here. He seasoned the steaks and arranged them in a pan, remembering with bitterness that in the first years of his marriage he couldn’t afford to buy meat for his young wife. He washed and boiled the potatoes. His culinary expertise was rudimentary—almost nonexistent to be honest—

62

To Love a Hero but he planned to compensate in different areas. He repressed a confident gloat and helped himself to a glass of vodka. The music, the flowers and the spicy smell emanating from the kitchen restored the pleasant and cozy atmosphere in his little flat.

He sat on the sofa and waited.

A key rattling in the door bolted him out of his reverie. Sergei opened the door and pulled Cecile in his arms. He kicked the door closed behind them. The fur of her chapka

tickled his cheek. He held her away at arm’s length and examined her with amused curiosity.

“Do I have the right person? My Cecilya metamorphosed into a Russian lady?”

She pirouetted in front of him. “I went shopping with Tania. How do you like it, my

General?”

He grinned. “I love it. Cecilya is suddenly Belarussian. You’re adorable in this outfit.” Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he kissed her. He raised his head and surveyed her new coat. His gaze slid from her hat all the way down to the tips of her boots. “Is it my imagination or have you grown taller today?”

“Tania convinced me to buy these high-heeled boots.” Chuckling, she took off her coat and yanked the chapka away. She fluffed her hair then scanned the place. “I like your living room. It’s pleasant and cozy. Are you going to give me a tour of the apartment?”

“In a while. Are you hungry? Come and help with the steaks.”

Her heart racing in anticipation, Cecile delighted in the domestic scenario. Sergei fixing dinner with her assistance. A simple scene but played by a magnificent hero. Her eyes roamed over his corded neck, his wide shoulders. She licked her lips, yearning to fondle the rippling muscles. Her fingers moved forward…then linked behind her back.

Coming here tonight might prove to be the worst mistake of her life. Reason shouted to get out of the apartment now, while she could still function with a clear mind.

“How can I help?” she asked, slamming the door on reason and a clear mind.

In the small kitchen, they bumped into each other several times. Sergei burst out laughing. “Since we’re crammed together every time we move, let’s do it the right way.”

Extending his left arm behind her shoulders, he pressed her against his side. “Now, you have both hands free. Can you please open the oven and put the steak pan inside? I

already adjusted it to broil.”

Cecile deposited the pan onto the oven rack. “Okay, what next?”

With his right hand, Sergei removed the pot containing the potatoes from the stove.

“Can you drain the water?” He handed her the pot. His arm still enfolding her back squeezed her closer to his chest.

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Mona Risk

She squirmed and grinned as she poured the water down the drain and replaced the pot on the stove. “Careful, I can’t move. I’m going to spill our dinner on the floor before I can turn down the stove so the vegetables won’t burn.”

Sergei released the pressure, caressed her arm and eased his hand over the silk blouse to cradle her breast. She moaned, “Sergei, I can’t function like that. I’ll ruin the meal.”

“The hell with the food. I’m hungry for you.” He turned her against him, his hands spanning her waist.

She dropped the plate on the countertop and twined her fingers around his neck.

His breath fanning her face, Sergei gazed into her eyes. “Do you know that you rarely call me by my name? You always say, ‘

generalle’

.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, not ‘general’ only. I call you ‘

my

General’. My one and only general.”

Passion glimmered in his eyes. “Oh my darling.” He crushed her lips beneath his mouth. She was pressed between his hard frame and the marble countertop, unable and unwilling to move. His lips slid from her mouth to her cheek and her throat. She felt his hardness pressing against her belly and lowered her lashes, surrendering to his will and whims.

The smell of meat and spices wafted around them. He released her mouth and wrinkled his nose. “Are we burning something?”

Cecile landed from her cloud of love. She pressed her cheek against his, not ready to let him go yet. Breathing deeply, she grimaced. “No but we will, soon, if we don’t rescue the steaks.”

He unhooked her arms and spun her around. “Let’s have dinner. Take the potatoes and I’ll bring the steaks.”

Sergei deposited the big plate on the table and uncorked a bottle of wine. “Will you serve, please, while I pour the wine?”

“What! No vodka today?”

“Vodka is for special toasts. We will do that after dinner. I had a drink while waiting for you but I don’t want your pretty head to swim in oblivion before dinner.

Here, taste this wine.”

He clinked his wineglass to hers. “To your health, Cecilya. I want to tell you how much I appreciate your coming here tonight. I wish I could date you like a normal man, give you a tour of our beautiful city and let you discover Minsk at my side. When are you coming next?”

“Maybe in two weeks…maybe in a couple of months…when the equipment arrives.” She sighed and lowered her eyelashes to hide a treacherous wetness.

“I hope it will be soon.” His hand squeezed hers across the table. “Let’s forget about tomorrow. Our present is too good to waste.

Bon appetite

.” Sergei attacked his steak with gusto. “Is it edible?”

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To Love a Hero

She took her first bite. “It’s delicious. You have gone to so much trouble for me.”

“I’m also selfish. I want us relaxed and comfortable for dinner and after dinner.”

He grinned and winked at her in such a beguiling way that she blushed with embarrassment. Did he notice?

Sergei stroked her hand. “How was your shopping with Tania?”

Of course, he noticed. His casual question was aimed at diluting the sultry insinuation.

“Fun. I’ve never enjoyed lingering in the boutiques as I did today. I had a good guide…and I was buying for a special occasion,” she added with a smile.

He kissed her hand and then turned it and brushed his moist lips along her wrist. A

shot of desire pulsed from her hand all the way to her belly. She wet her lips and tried to control her breathing. “How about you? How was the rest of your day?”

His mouth twisted in a sideways smile and he humphed. “I met with our Vice-

President and several ministers. I told them what a great job you are doing.”

“Thank you, Sergei. Thank you so much.” He was finally giving her credit. She bent across the table and kissed him on the cheek.

He cupped her face and captured her mouth in a lingering kiss that stopped her breath. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself to breathe. “I’m almost suffocating in the arms of a strong man who certainly knows how to kiss.”

A smug grin on his face, he wrapped his hand around hers. “Cecilya, you are one of a kind. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you leave.”

She sobered up. “Please, let’s not talk about tomorrow,” she said in a weak voice.

“Let me get the dessert. Minsk’s bakers are renowned all over the Russian world.”

He brought a small chocolate cake and two bottles of vodka.

Cecile removed the dirty dishes and set the dessert ones. She cut the cake and placed a small piece on her plate and a big one in Sergei’s. They ate the scrumptious cake and licked their lips. “It’s delicious,” she assured him.

“We’ll eat the rest for breakfast.”

Was he planning to keep her here all night? Cecile raised an uncertain gaze toward him. They hadn’t discussed her return to the hotel. To be on the safe side, she’d packed her suitcases for tomorrow’s trip before coming to see him.

Sergei didn’t notice her bewilderment. He opened a bottle and poured vodka into the shot glasses. He sat on the sofa and patted the place next to him. “Come, my

Cecilya, let’s celebrate our date.” She slid beside him. He raised his glass. “To the beautiful woman who brought rays of sunshine back to my heart.”

He couldn’t have offered her a nicer compliment. She felt tears prickling her eyes.

“Thank you, Sergei, I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

His gaze focused on her as he emptied his glass.

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On a sudden impulse, she clinked her glass to his and said, “Bottoms up,” and downed the drink.

Her lashes flickered, her eyes tickled. She saw hundreds of stars dancing in front of her.

Sergei’s jaw sagged. “

Holla!

What do you think you’re doing?”

She giggled. “I’m trying to act like a Belarussian lady.”

He burst out laughing. “A Belarussian lady drinking bottoms up! John and I were teasing you. Oh, my Cecilya, you are a unique gem. And you’re doing this to please me?”

He smoothed away a strand of hair that fell across her eyes. She held his hand and pressed it against her cheek. How she wanted her handsome general. She had known him for less than a week and yet she claimed him as her hero. He belonged to her, or rather she wanted to belong to him.

Sergei scooped her onto his lap. She cuddled into the curve of his arm and flattened herself on his chest, raking her fingers through his hair. She wouldn’t trade her place for all the treasures of the world. Sergei’s arms anchored her to the only paradise where she could find happiness.

His lips devoured hers. His tongue slid into her mouth and entwined with hers.

Passion and vodka enflamed their caresses.

Unable to breathe, she snatched her mouth away and rested her head on his shoulder. Her arms hooked around his back, her lips crushed against the soft skin of his throat, she inhaled the smell of his cologne and closed her eyes, feeling content.

Afraid to move and disturb her, Sergei kept her in his arms for several minutes.

Cecile’s head nested comfortably against the hollow of his neck. He caressed her hair and whispered, “Sweetheart, let’s go to bed.”

She didn’t answer. He eased away. Gently moving her away from his shoulder, he raised his voice. “Cecilya, my love…Cecile?”

He released her head. It fell back to his chest.

Asleep

.

Sergei’s heavy sigh interrupted the total silence of the room. It was their first night together. And their last one for a long time.

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To Love a Hero

Chapter Six

Sergei contemplated the pretty face resting against his arm. Her lashes formed a smooth arch on her cheeks. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted releasing regular breaths. The jet lag, the busy schedule, the long wakeful hours and the alcohol had overcome her resistance. She’d finally let go and slept like an innocent child in his arms.

Tenderness overwhelmed his heart. What good would it do to wake her now?

Her flexible body cradled against his chest, he straightened up and glided to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, flipped over the comforter then moved her back onto the sheets. She was sound asleep. He sighed and decided he too could use some rest.

They would sleep entwined in each other’s arms and wake up in the same bed. He smiled, somehow comforted by the idea. At least this particular scene would happen as planned.

Sergei removed his clothing, keeping on only his boxer shorts. He lay down beside her, then realized that he couldn’t let her sleep with all her clothes on—especially when he was practically naked. He scratched his head and debated how to go about it. What the heck! He had undressed enough women in his life.

Still, his conscience prickled him. He hesitated. Cecile was asleep and unaware of his intentions. Oh well, she came here willingly and it would help her sleep better.

He unzipped the wool skirt and lowered it. His body stiffened, a normal healthy reaction to the gesture of disrobing the woman he desired so much. Cecile wore a long slip. Sergei relaxed. At least, she was decently covered from his coveting gaze. He draped the skirt over the back of a chair and examined her blouse.

There were no buttons in the front. He turned her to the side and fumbled with the three buttons at the back. He gathered the garment above and away from her head. His ministrations didn’t wake her. Reassured, he reached under the slip, unhooked the bra and slid it out. Her breasts free from constraint spilled half out of the lacy material.

Sergei clasped his hands shut, his nails digging into his palms. His manhood was rigid and his breathing ragged. His eyes riveted on her chest, then contoured the outline of the slip. With every relaxed breath, her breasts raised in a slow recurrent motion that hypnotized him. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Trying to regain some control, he turned his head away toward the wall.

A slight movement and a deep sigh wafted from the bed, inexorably attracting his gaze back to the thin waist, the flat belly molded in white silk and the thighs half uncovered by the hiking hem of her slip. She was beautiful, well proportioned but she usually hid all her attributes under severe, dark-colored suits, long skirts and plain tops. He stared at the lithe body, the shapely legs and the generous breasts.

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He bent over her. His hands, warm and moist, trembled as they slid along her waist and smoothed the satiny slip down to cover her hips and thighs. He felt her underwear and froze. Why was he torturing himself this way? There was no way on earth he could just lie beside her and ignore her.

He glanced at the face resting on his pillow and a smile curved his lips. The cool assertive American scientist—the thunderous Dr. Robota who terrified the chemists into hard work, his valiant Cecilya who embraced his cause with eagerness—was vanquished by the wine and a toast of vodka downed bottoms up.

His hand brushed a silky strand of hair from her forehead and stroked her cheek, then withdrew swiftly. Moving away from the bed, he turned off the switch, leaving the flickering light of a bedside lamp and walked out to the living room.

Sergei grabbed a knitted mohair blanket from the armoire and dropped onto the sofa without bothering to turn off the lamp on the side table.

He couldn’t believe his bad luck. She was in his bed but he was out of it.

Frustrated, he snorted, shook his head and reached for the bottle of vodka. Damn the vodka. It was responsible for his present predicament. He put the bottle away with a vengeful bang and stretched out on the sofa.

* * * * *

Cecile rubbed her temples trying to quiet the hammering pounding on her skull.

Through the fog clouding her mind, she realized that the bed extended widely on both sides. She relished in its comfort and rolled around believing herself to be in her own large bed in Boston. Reality flashed back. For almost a week, she’d been in Minsk—not in Boston—in a hotel room and the bed, far from being soft, poked at her ribs and back.

But then, this bed?

Cecile bolted up and moaned, squeezing her aching forehead between her fingers.

Where the hell was she?

She scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, an armoire, Russian chiffonier with a round mirror on the wall and crystal candlelight on the night table. A sudden flurry of memories swarmed into her weary mind. Last she remembered, she was cozily ensconced against Sergei’s solid chest. She spun her head spun right and left, searching. The impulsive movement jolted a throbbing pain inside her brain.

Cecile closed her eyes, then opened them very slowly. “He gave me his bed,” she mused. “He must be out on the sofa.”

She bit her lip. A pang of guilt invaded her heart. She removed the comforter and eased out with careful movements. The last thing she needed was a bout of dizziness.

Shivering, she brought her hand to tighten her blouse around her. Her eyes widened.

She gawked at herself. She wore no blouse, actually no bra and no skirt, only her slip.

She patted her belly and exhaled with relief and embarrassment. Her bikini briefs still clung to her skin.

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To Love a Hero

Dear Sergei, he’d removed the cumbersome clothes that could hinder her sleep but kept her covered enough to protect her modesty. She smiled, gratitude and appreciation overwhelming her.

Cecile drew her jacket over her shoulders and opened the bedroom door. Leaning against the wall, she glanced at the living room. His head lying on one arm of the sofa and his feet popped on the other, Sergei slept. A blanket covered him to the waist leaving his torso naked. She stared at the chest where thick black hair curled over rippling muscles. An overwhelming desire to reach, caress and kiss the wide expanse of rugged skin gripped her.

She tiptoed toward him and stood close to the sofa, watching his handsome face.

Her gaze shifted from the long black lashes to the straight nose and rested on his firm lips. He slept peacefully. A hint of a boyish smile played on the mouth that had ravished hers a few hours ago. Her fingers moved toward his lips then retracted and clenched. Heat slithered through her almost naked body. Yet she trembled and inhaled deeply.

His soldier senses on alert, Sergei heard her coming out of the room. He kept his eyelids lowered and watched through his lashes. Aware of her approach and retreat, he held himself in check, waiting for her to give him a lead, to show if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He felt her hand hovering near his face, then withdrawing.

He was hard and ready for her, yet he waited, determined not to take but to give.

He would give more than she asked for, more than she would dream of, if she only came to him.

“Cecilya, you’re so beautiful.” He opened his palm to her. She put her hand in his and he pulled her down on his chest.

“Sergei,” she breathed against his mouth as she slid onto his body.

“My darling, how are you feeling?” He wrapped his arms around her and massaged her back and neck.

“Oh, this feels so good.” She wriggled under his ministrations. “I woke up with a terrible headache but it’s gone now.” Lying on top of him, Cecile brushed his lips with hers.

He reveled in the sight of her silk-clothed body sprawled on top of him and the feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest. She closed her eyes as he kept rubbing her back. Pressing her head down, he claimed her lips. His tongue plundered her mouth, stroking, swirling and tasting.

She freed her lips to breathe. He pulled both of them up. For the second time in the same night, he carried her to the bedroom.

Sergei lowered her in the middle of the bed and joined her. “Do you want to sleep?”

His question surprised her.

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Cecile laughed softly. She snuggled against him and chained her fingers around his neck. “No, my darling, I’m wide awake. Your massage did wonders.” A deep sense of relaxation and contentment spread through her entire body.

His mouth rained fiery kisses along her cheek. A husky murmur reached her.

“Cecilya, I want you so much.”

She cupped his face and inhaled his breath and the scent of his cologne. Her eyes locked with his, letting him read her approval. “I want you too.”

He captured her lips and ravished her mouth. Their tongues played together. Lying against his sturdy body, cushioned by rippling muscles, she relaxed and returned his kiss.

A strong leg straddled and entwined with hers. Hard muscles stroked the smoothness of her naked thigh. His hand moved between their bodies and molded her breast. He gently pinched a nipple and played with it.

Her concentration focused on his hands. Losing touch with her thoughts, she clutched his shoulders, her mind hanging on his fingers and her tongue twirling with his. Her slip was whisked away and her panties slithered down her legs.

Silence drifted over them. She opened her eyes and stole a glance at him. He sat on his haunches studying her with reverence. “Sergei,” she called softly, missing the warmth of his body against hers.

“

Crassiva

. You’re so beautiful.” His gaze traveled slowly over her length and his eyes sparkled with glints of sexual intent. Heat engulfed her without him even touching her. But she wanted his touch, the contact of their flesh, and her softness against his muscles.

Cecile opened her arms wide, stretched seductively and beckoned him close. “I

want you.” She threaded her fingers inside the elastic band of his boxer shorts and lowered them slowly. Very slowly. Her eyes skated over the rippling muscles of his belly. He was so handsome, so gorgeously male. Free of the shorts his erection sprang, glorious and throbbing. She smiled, pleased with the way she affected him, and extended her hand to rub his shaft with a featherlight caress. He dipped his head backward, his breathing labored.

Confident in her power to dispense as much pleasure as she received, she wrapped her fingers around him. He groaned and eased her hand away. “Enough, my darling.

Now it is my turn.”

Cradling the back of her head, he claimed her lips and his tongue danced a wild waltz in her mouth. How could she forget her lover was a Belarussian officer used to being in charge, taking command, being on top? She suppressed a giggle. By all means, let him be on top of her. He slid next to her, half lying over her, exactly as she wished him to be.

Snatching his mouth away from hers, he nuzzled at her neck and trailed moist kisses all the way to her breasts, fondling them one after the other, making her heart leap and race in excitement. As he took a peak in his mouth and teased, his strong but

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To Love a Hero gentle fingers slid between her thighs and crawled deep inside her to stroke and fondle.

She gasped and shivered and saw silver stars dancing behind her eyelids. And suddenly she couldn’t think at all. Drowning in pleasure, she spread her hand on his back, ushering his head toward hers. His lips moved to her mouth and his fingers released her. He rolled them both around and eased away. A drawer squealed. He protected himself and his eyes searched hers with probing intensity.

”Please now,” she whispered.

“Yes now.” But he smiled and kissed the pulse at the base of her neck, igniting more flame on her blazing flesh as his lips roamed over her breasts and moved lower to her stomach. He teased her navel with his tongue and she squirmed, her skin quivering with pleasure and anticipation.

“Now,” she panted, her heart pounding like an out-of-control drum.

His breathing heavy, he spread her legs wider. His fingers glided lower, splayed on her thighs and played with her inner folds. She moaned and writhed, clutching and kneading his shoulders, as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Then he was on top of her. Instinctively she raised her hips to meet him. He teased her, then withdrew. When she thought she would go mad with wanting, he slid deeper, rocking himself into her softness. Pleasure swept through her. She convulsed and cried out in ecstasy. A moment later, he stiffened beneath her hands, then shuddered and collapsed onto her, cradling her tightly against his body.

She dug her fingers into the taut muscles of his back, wrapped her legs tightly around him. Fused him to her so she would never let him go. They remained embraced, breathing hard. Cecile floated in and out of a fantasy world that belonged only to them and to their present.

He kissed her cheeks and eyelids and locked his hand on her breast. “My darling, how I wish I could always keep you with me.”

“Shush. Please don’t talk about the future.” Cecile knew she would burst out sobbing if he just uttered one more word about their hopeless tomorrow.

She grabbed his shoulders and sealed his lips with hers. He lingered on her mouth and deepened the pressure. Her handsome general knew how to kiss, how to dispense pleasure and tenderness and play with every fiber of her body as if he was trebling on violin strings. She reveled in his chiseled lips and his swift tongue, his gentle fingers and his sturdy body. Her nails raked on the bulging area of his arms, zigzagged down on his back, massaging his spine and kneading the hard muscles.

He released her mouth and laid his cheek against hers. Still lying on top of her, he breathed deeply. “That feels good…hmm, so good.” He raised his chest and leaned on his elbows. “I’m sorry. I’ve been selfishly relishing your caresses. Am I too heavy for you?”

She smiled and admired the naked body looming above her, muscular and lean, not an inch of flabby flesh, just raw masculinity in all its glory. And he was hers, at least for the moment.

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“Never too heavy. I’d like to keep you chained to me forever.” She pulled him down and he squeezed her against him kissing her with so much passion her eyes needled with tears.

Snatching her mouth away, she wailed, “Sergei, how am I going to go back? How am I going to leave you? I spent my life dreaming of a hero like you.”

The gentle concern in his eyes made her heart lurch. He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “Let me love you, my darling and you will cherish these memories until we meet again.”

* * * * *

Satiated and peaceful, Sergei rolled away from the soft form cushioning him. He raised his hand and glanced at his watch. It was five in the morning and time to move.

The interlude of love had ended and the claws of the bitter daily routine clutched at his heart again. He trailed a last loving gaze over her body and face and bent to brush her lips.

“Cecilya, we need to get dressed and go.”

She opened beautiful mesmerizing eyes that gleamed like a green river spotted with brown shadows. “I’ll never forget our night of love.”

“I wish I could offer you a future.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, then eased from her with an audible sigh.

He helped her into the narrow shower and lathered her back. She laughed and returned the favor. They stood naked, welded to each other and kissed while the scalding water cascaded down their bodies. Stepping out of the cramped space, he handed her a towel then dried himself.

“I’ll prepare the coffee and cake while you get dressed.”

Staying around her was too tempting. Sergei pulled on his boxers, pants and turtleneck. A moment later, Cecile emerged from the bathroom barefoot, her hair wet and mussed but at least she was dressed.

Sergei handed her a cup of steaming coffee. He deposited two plates each containing a piece of chocolate cake on the table and a little packet wrapped in blue paper.

“What’s that?” she asked while fingering the package.

“Don’t open it now. These are two tapes with Russian songs to remind you of happy time in Minsk.”

“Oh Sergei, that’s so nice of you. Thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kept her against him devouring her mouth, then brusquely unhooked her hands and pushed her toward a chair.

“I’m sorry to rush you, Cecile,” Sergei said, recovering his usual authoritarian tone.

Nicouvitch will pick us up at six sharp at the exact place where he dropped you

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To Love a Hero yesterday. You will go ahead and climb up in the backseat. I’ll join you two minutes later.”

Cecile sipped her coffee and ate her cake silently, then stole a glance at him. “Will you come to the Hall of Officers?”

His lips twisted in a grimace. “As a Major General, I will head the Summary

Meeting and I will struggle to maintain a blank expression and an official façade. Too many people would be eager to pinpoint the slightest out of context smile.”

She nodded. “I understand. And I’ll do the same.”

“Roussov, my former father-in-law, is waiting for a chance to destroy me. I can’t repeat it enough. Stay away from him, Cecilya. He would be delighted to shred your reputation to pieces.”

Cecilya had restored peace to his heart. He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. “Thank you, my darling, for staying last night.” He kissed her and then glanced at his watch.

They removed the cups and dishes. She insisted on washing them while he tidied the bedroom. He came back and helped her into her coat. “Nicolai will drop me first at his flat where I will recover my uniform. Then he’ll drive you to your hotel. We’ll meet at ten sharp at the Hall. The meeting will be short. Nicolai will accompany your delegation to the airport and see you off.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You won’t come to the airport, right?”

He touched his lips to her forehead. “No, my darling, the Major General of Belarus has no business being at the airport. Forgive me if I do my best to ignore you at the Hall of Officers.”

He shoved the chapka on her head and tilted it to the side. He cupped her cheeks between his palms and smiled, then crushed her mouth with his own for one last breath-stealing kiss. Releasing her, he opened the door and checked the hallway for neighbors then punched the button of the elevator. “You can go now.”

* * * * *

How would she survive without her handsome general? She’d just discovered the meaning of happiness—she couldn’t even think the word love

—and it was already snatched away from her.

Not only would they be separated but also there was no way to talk to him, to hear his voice, to even send him a message or receive news from him. The Major General lived in government buildings and probably never answered the phone himself.

She realized with despair that for the next few weeks, all communication with

Sergei would be cut. His secretary—or maybe even the damned Bureau of National

Security—would intercept any international call or letter before it even reached him.

And e-mailing seemed an impossible utopia since neither Sergei Fedorin nor his officers owned a computer.

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Cecile dropped her head in her hands dejectedly.

Fool, she had been a presumptuous fool. She thought herself strong, rational, wise and collected, but she collapsed and whined like a teenager, a few minutes after leaving him. Had the cold sensible brain of Dr. Lornier already deserted her?

She solved everyone’s problems but she couldn’t do a damned thing for herself.

* * * * *

The Red Hall swarmed with uniforms. Cecile mused that every Belarussian officer must have turned up at the Hall of Officers to get a glimpse of the American delegation.

Cecile noticed the fringe of gray hair crowning a balding head. The older officer spun around and she recognized Roussov.

He headed straight toward her and grabbed her hand. “Dr. Lornier, the news of your enthusiastic handling of Belchem Lab has spread all over Minsk. On behalf of the

Minister of Defense and the President of Belarus, whom I personally know,” he specified pompously with an important smile, “I want to express our gratitude for your effort. When you come back I hope I will be able to invite you out.”

“Thank you, Colonel Roussov. We’ll do our best to fulfill the requirements of our contract and help your country,” she said, ignoring the personal invitation.

Coming straight toward them, Nicolai blessedly interfered. “Colonel Roussov, Dr.

Lornier, please take your places. The Major G

eneralle has just arrived. The meeting is about to start.”

Roussov bowed and released her hand. She nodded and scooted to her seat. In spite of Sergei’s warning to stay away from Roussov, she could hardly avoid meeting him.

Colonel Nicouvitch was already announcing, “Sergei Fedorin, Major

Generalle of

Belarus.”

They all rose and the officers saluted. Sergei headed to his seat, paused and returned the salute before sitting down. He consulted with Nicolai who reached again for his microphone and addressed her in Russian through the interpreter. “Dr. Lornier, if you would be kind enough to give us a summary of your accomplishments and an aperçu of your plans for the next two months.”

Threading her fingers around the microphone, she glanced at her notes, then scanned the assembly and presented her report. She concluded by saying that samples from around Minsk had already been collected and would be leaving in her luggage.

The Boston EAL lab could report the analytical results within three weeks. The general sent her a grateful glance.

It was time to go. One by one, the Belarussians came to shake hands with her and

John. Sergei solemnly bowed over her hand as he often did in previous days. “

Spacibo

bolchoi Dr. Robota. Dasvidania

, , goodbye.”

She felt his kiss, hot and moist. Her heart squeezed with pain. “Goodbye, General

Fedorin,” she said, trying to control her quavering voice.

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To Love a Hero

Except for Colonel Nicouvitch, the military departed from the Red Hall. Suddenly, Cecile felt very cold and very lonely. A French poem that her grandma taught her years ago haunted her mind.

You miss one person and the world seems empty

. Sergei had left the

Red Hall and she wanted to run away to a private place to cry without restraint.

She spun around. Her gaze encompassed the huge room and rested for a minute on the official table and the seat he’d just vacated. She stared sadly, recalling the strong and proud Major General of Belarus, the handsome man who’d held her with so much tenderness a few hours ago.

She sighed, raised her chin and without uttering a word walked out of the Red Hall.

* * * * *

At the airport, Cecile followed Nicolai like a robot. He carried her luggage and filed a Russian exit form for her and John. The colonel presented his military pass and crossed the security line with both of them.

They strolled through a long dark corridor, mounted the stairs and ended up in a small room furnished with rows of plastic chairs—the departure gate of Minsk Airport.

At the extreme right of the room, a door opened. A flood of passengers poured in, moving straight to the escalator hidden by a railing.

Cecile shrieked. “Oh, this is my famous escalator.”

John burst out laughing. “The notorious escalator that sent you flying right into the

Major General.”

She moved toward the railing and stared with rapture down the escalator. “It’s still broken,” she mused with a shivering voice as if she was admiring a beautiful sculpture.

John slapped his leg and boomed, “My goodness, Cecile, you should see your face.

You’re rhapsodizing about a broken escalator.

” He mimicked her voice and rasped idiotically, “Do you want me to take a picture and frame it for you?”

Exasperated by his teasing, Cecile returned to her place. “Maybe if you’d almost broken your back on this malfunctioning piece of junk you would understand.”

Nicouvitch nodded seriously. “Dr. Lornier, my generalle has sent a written petition to the Ministry of Transportation requesting the escalator’s repair. It will be taken care of as soon as the government gets some money.”

Cecile smiled with emotion. Sergei too hadn’t forgotten the incident that propelled her into his arms.

The loudspeaker alerted the passengers to Munich to line up at the gate. Cecile hugged Nicolai. “Thank you for everything.”

“

Dasvidania

, Cecile, John.”

Carrying their hand luggage, Cecile and John walked down the ramp and stepped into the plane. Cecile slid into the window seat. John, who couldn’t reserve a business class seat on the overbooked flight, settled next to her.

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Her nose glued to the window, she watched the airport and the forest of thin trees disappear. The plane rose into the clear blue sky sparsely spotted with clouds. Cecile leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. She remembered her disappointment upon landing just a week ago. Everything had seemed gray and cold. Now, Minsk was the golden city holding her prince charming within its gate, the pivotal place where she couldn’t wait to return.

She had dreaded traveling to a faraway country to perform a difficult task and ended up with the extraordinary bonus of a perfect lover and a wondrous night.

“Cecile? Cecile?” John’s words punctured through the foggy layer where her depressive thoughts twirled and collided.

She tipped her head toward him. “Yes?” she croaked. Faint and hoarse, her own voice surprised her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were asleep.”

“I’m not asleep, just daydreaming. What is it?”

John stared at her with a frown of concern, “Are you sick?”

“No but extremely tired.”

“I understand. I’m tired too. I miss my kids and I’m eager to arrive in Washington.”

She sighed. She missed her general and would rather head back to Minsk.

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To Love a Hero

Chapter Seven

“Hello Cecile, welcome back.” Paul Miller’s booming voice reverberated from the laboratory hallway. He strolled into her office his arms wide-opened and she circled around the desk to hug him.

The logistics manager was a big man, ten years her senior. Cecile considered him a friend rather than an employee. She had regularly been invited to spend Christmas at the Millers’. Paul, his wife, son and two daughters offered the perfect family atmosphere she craved on major holidays.

Gifted with tremendous aplomb and the knack to laugh at almost everything in life, Paul amused her. With sound advice or outrageous jokes, he often lightened up the heavy burden of her responsibilities.

“

Dubra outra, Dr. Robota, ” Paul said, with a big grin.

She lifted questioning eyebrows. “Holy cripes, how do you know about that name?”

“News travels fast. Actually, John Gordon called early this morning and told me about your trip. Apparently the country is famous for its vodka and its pretty women.”

Paul’s eyes twinkled with mischief behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

Cecile didn’t feel like smiling. No one had greeted her the previous night at Logan

Airport. She still wondered how she’d gathered enough energy to go through the customs arrival procedures, collect her car from the long-term parking lot and drive for an hour through the forever-jammed Callahan Tunnel and the busy streets of downtown Boston.

But she was safely home and back into her lab. A familiar faint smell wafted into the corridor. She recognized the acrid odor of nitric acid and the sweet alcohol-like smell of methylene chloride, the bread and butter of her analytical laboratory. The technicians used gallons of these chemicals on a daily basis for their sample preparation.

“We accomplished a lot in a short time.”

And not only in the laboratory

. “I hope we can go back soon to complete our mission.”

“There’s no rush.” Paul patted her shoulder. “Cecile, you know my philosophy, enjoy life whenever you can and as much as you can. Unfortunately, my dear, you are wasting yourself day and night in the lab. I thought the trip and contact with a different culture would alter your misplaced dedication to work. But according to John, it only worsened over there.” He gave an exaggerated sigh.

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Cecile averted his gaze. There was no need to let him guess his concerned wishes had been fulfilled. She walked to her office. “Paul, we’ll have a staff meeting at ten. Be there please, even if you already got your personal report.”

“Yes, Dr. Robota, will do.”

With a lopsided smile, he left her office. Cecile suppressed a relieved sigh. Let them think what they wanted. At least, their incorrect opinion guaranteed her privacy. She could only imagine Rob’s reaction if he heard that his serious ex-fiancée had thrown her cool reserve to the Belarussian winds and fallen head over heels for a faraway general.

Talk about the devil

. Cecile grimaced as Rob strutted into her office. “Welcome back, Dr. Lornier,” he said, with the smirk she remembered all too well.

“Good morning, Rob.” She kept her voice pleasant and plastered a smile on her face.

“I heard the news. Not bad at all for your first time, my dear. You can unload the burden on me anytime, if it becomes too hard,” he said.

“Bug off, Rob. Things are going well.” She’d be damned if she ever asked for his help. To think she’d been engaged to him and came close to marrying the creep. There was no way on earth, she’d tell him to come and help with the environmental cleanup in Belarus.

Oh Sergei, I miss you so much

.

* * * * *

Three long weeks, occupied by successive meetings with Paul and the senior chemists, passed in a strange foggy blur. No news came from Minsk.

Cecile’s head spun from the blow of a crushed hope. A depressive mood invaded her mind. These were the side effects of getting involved with a man who lived on the other side of the world, a hero dedicated to his country, a personality whose life was scrutinized by the spying Director of National Security. Why did she have to fall into

Sergei’s arms?

Shaking her head in dismay, she scoffed. She had fallen in his arms in the true sense of the word. Was she going to keep on waiting and hoping? For what exactly?

It was time to get back on her feet and move ahead. At home, Cecile buried her face in her pillow determined to forget the extracurricular activities of the Minsk trip. She would control her head and her heart and concentrate on her work. While listing the instrument vendors she should call in the morning, Cecile fell asleep.

In the lab, she avoided useless daydreaming. With draconian discipline, she suppressed her erratic thoughts and rigidly focused on the task at hand. Two of the vendors assured her that the equipment was on its way and the four others promised to expedite the shipping to Minsk.

John called several times to follow up on the ordering process and peppered his conversation with fond Belarussian reminiscences that burned her heart like sulfuric

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To Love a Hero acid on an open wound. “If the first shipment is expected to arrive in a couple of weeks, we should get ready for our next trip. Who are you taking with us?”

“Paul Miller, our logistics manager and Jeffrey Burns, the lab manager, who will supervise the installation of the equipment and the training. As soon as we bring the equipment to the Belchem Lab, a team of five chemists will join us from here.”

“Well, fax me their names, pictures and all information needed for their visas.”

They’d be going soon to Belarus. Did Sergei still remember her? Or had he forgotten her with a local beauty?

Just as she was switching off the lights to leave her office, the phone rang. “Dr.

Lornier, please?”

“Speaking.” The caller’s Russian accent was difficult to understand over the static on the line. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice.

“Cecile, it’s Sergei.”

“Oh my God, Sergei. Where are you calling from?”

“I’m in Frankfurt. I’ve been in Germany for a week. When are you coming back?”

“Soon, Sergei. Soon.” She smiled, trying to control her racing pulse. In a flicker, her despair evaporated and with it the self-imposed stern resolutions. No more Dr. Robota who worked, worked and worked. She wanted to live and be happy.

“I can’t talk long. I missed you, Cecilya. Come back.”

“Soon.” She felt like hugging the telephone.

The next day John called to ask if she would be ready to leave in a week. “No problem at all.” She was ready to leave now.

* * * * *

Cecile’s head jerked forward as the plane landed roughly on the icy runway. Three weeks in Boston. Three weeks that felt like three years. Too restless to idly wait in her place, she leaped out of her seat and strode to the plane’s exit. The sight of two

Belarussian uniforms topped with two familiar faces greeted her as soon as the door of the Boeing opened.

Without hesitation, Cecile kissed the colonel on both cheeks, then flung her arms around the general’s neck. His chin pressed against her chapka.

“Welcome back, Cecilya.” His whispered endearment melted away the fatigue of the long trip and the loneliness of the past weeks.

As she immediately disentangled herself, her heart sang.

I’m home in his arms where I

belong.

Exuberant with relief, John bear-hugged the colonel. “So good to see you. It was a long, long trip. The snowstorm delayed us in Boston. We missed our connection in

Frankfurt and were rerouted via Moscow. A horrible trip.”

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The general clapped him on the back. “Welcome, my friends. So good to see you all safe and sound.”

Cecile stepped back and waved to the two men standing behind her. “General, this mountain of a man is Paul Miller, our logistics manager. A valuable guy to keep around.”

The general chuckled. “Such a recommendation from Dr. Lornier is an incredible reference.”

“And the very tall guy is Jeffrey Burns, our lab manager, who will install the equipment and train the Belchem chemists.”

“Welcome to Minsk, gentlemen.”

Paul shook hands with the officers. “Nice to meet you, General Fedorin but do you guys realize that, with our hugging and kissing, we’re holding the rest of the passengers inside the plane.”

They proceeded along the ramp and reached the infamous escalator. Fedorin ordered, “Gentlemen, watch your steps. We haven’t gathered the funds to fix it yet.”

Nicouvitch went first. The general grabbed Cecile’s tote bag and briefcase in one hand and slid the other under her elbow to help her down the escalator. She held on tightly to the railing. He smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry.”

Hanging on her general’s arm, Cecile progressed on the love escalator

, as she spontaneously named it. “With you I never worry,” she murmured. A blazing heat radiated from her arm to her waist and spread all over her body. “How come you came to the airport?”

“The airport is almost deserted at dawn. Nicouvitch and I are receiving the

American delegation after a very trying trip. No one would dare question our motive.”

At the bottom of the escalator, Sergei left her and preceded them to passport control. In a record five minutes, the four passports were checked and stamped under the watchful eyes of the two officers.

Cecile laughed, the stress of the past days forgotten. “You see, John, the benefit of being received by a general. Last time, we waited for an hour.”

They crossed customs control even faster. Sergei insisted on carrying her suitcases himself. The colonel helped tuck the luggage in the military Jeep.

At five in the morning, the icy sidewalk shimmered under the flickering streetlights but beyond the airport, the blackness of the night still enfolded the surroundings. Paul and Jeffrey joined Tania in the van.

Sergei helped Cecile into the backseat of the military Jeep and slid beside her. John settled in the front next to Nicolai and the colonel drove away. Cuddled next to her general, Cecile compared this arrival in Belarus to her first trip. She had a comfortable sense of déjà vu with the added bonus of Sergei’s hands enfolding hers.

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He raised her palm to his lips and trailed a warm path over each of her fingers. She leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes, happy to be with him. His arm slipped behind her back bringing her closer. “Dr. Lornier, tell us about your trip. What has caused such a delay in your arrival?”

She jolted up, stunned by his official voice and the casual wording and twisted her head toward him. He winked and blew her a kiss, then raised a finger pointing at a little bulb in the Jeep’s roof. She remembered the damned KGB and its blasted bugging system.

Adopting the same worldly tone, she narrated the whole trip peppering her monologue with as many formal appellations and ceremonious expressions as she could fit in. She hitched her chin toward the spying bulb and concluded pompously, “Major General Fedorin, in the name of the American delegation, I can’t thank you enough for taking the trouble to come and receive us in the middle of the night. I will be forever grateful for this courteous gesture that reflects the Belarussian spirit.”

She placed a hand over her mouth to avoid giggling as she saw him bite his lips and gesture to cut it out. “The EAL Lab has analyzed the soil and water samples collected from the surroundings of Minsk,” she added more seriously. “We did identify several carcinogens at a concentration above the maximum allowable limit. The radiation level was also high enough to cause concern. I will present the results to Dr. Kadelov.”

Talking business was the last thing on her mind at the moment but the samples analysis was a top priority for him.

“According to the analysis and your professional experience, can we assume that these carcinogens and the radiation are responsible for the high rate of cancer that has plagued our citizens?”

“Based on the numbers I have seen, I’m convinced of that fact.”

“Is there any way you could be wrong, Dr. Lornier?”

“General Fedorin, the quality control and quality assurance that we perform leave no doubt about the accuracy of the results. You have to accept the fact that Minsk is heavily contaminated.” Although she understood his need to be certain, she was shocked that he questioned her professional capability.

“Thank you for the analysis, Dr. Lornier. We’ll talk about it later.”

Sergei remained quiet, his silence showing her that he was trying to digest the meaning of the analytical results.

Was he thinking about his wife? She’d died of cancer caused by these same carcinogens EAL lab identified in the Minsk’s soil. Had Cecile convinced him that he was not responsible for his wife’s death? It was inevitable with the malignant cancer and the high pollution that had caused it. Could he finally throw away the guilt that had burdened him for years? Cecile hoped the analytical results would bring an end to his nightmare and a new beginning she could share.

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His hand moved along her jaw and caressed her cheek. He couldn’t say sweet words in the official Jeep with Nicolai and John in the front seat. She didn’t need words.

She melted against him, happy and secure in his arms, her true home.

The car entered downtown Minsk. They both straightened up in the seat and edged away assuming a more decent posture as the pale rays of the early morning sun bathed the city and flickered in the car.

When they arrived at the hotel, the Jeep lined up against the curb behind the van and stopped. Nicolai jumped out and opened the door on her side. The general pressed her hand. “Dr. Lornier, we won’t have any meeting today. Your delegation needs some time to recover from the ordeal of the trip. I will see you tomorrow at the Hall of

Officers.”

He followed her outside, out of earshot. “Cecile, can Nicolai bring you to my flat this afternoon, at five?”

She nodded and spun around to collect her luggage and Sergei reentered the car.

* * * * *

General Fedorin looked at his watch for the hundredth time. What could have happened to delay them?

He dusted the furniture, aired the kitchen, boiled the potatoes and marinated the steaks. He was sure Cecile wouldn’t mind a repeat performance of her first dinner—

besides he didn’t know how to cook anything else. This time, the bouquet adorning the center of the table consisted of three blooming roses with a penetrating fragrance.

It was already six o’clock. He’d been waiting for an hour, whiling away the time with several vodka toasts and soft Russian music. Too restless to sit, he paced the little living room feeling like a lion in a cage. For the tenth time, he repeated the same question, “Where is Cecile? Why isn’t she here yet?”

The absence of a telephone enraged him. He’d disconnected and removed the existing telephone right after Sophia’s death. He hardly came to this place. He glanced at his watch. Six-fifteen. And there was no way to communicate from the claustrophobic flat.

Unable to cope with more helpless suspense, Sergei yanked his coat off the hanger and shoved a chapka on his head. He would go to the nearest grocery store and call the colonel.

Before he could leave the expected knock banged at long last. Sergei sighed with relief and opened the door with a big smile that instantly faded when he saw

Nicouvitch alone.

The colonel entered and kicked the door closed behind him. “She’s sick. She couldn’t come. I’ve waited for half an hour at the street corner outside the hotel. I finally went to call her from the grocery store. Her voice was so weak.”

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Sergei couldn’t believe his ears. Cecile sick? Cecilya who exuded energy and good health? So sick that she would miss coming to a date with him, after such a long separation. Anxiety gripped at his throat.

“Sick with what?”

“She said, as soon as she checked in her room she went to sleep. Then she woke up after an hour with terrible cramps. She threw up several times. May be food poisoning or a virus. You should have heard her, my

Generalle

. She kept apologizing. She said she spent some time sitting on the floor of the bathroom unable to walk back to the bed.”

“Does she need a doctor? Can we take her to a clinic? Or get her some medicine?”

He was thinking fast trying to find a solution to cure her.

“I told her I would bring her a doctor but she immediately squeaked and said, ‘No doctor please.’ Their Department of Defense had warned them never to go to a doctor in a foreign country.” Nicouvitch shook his head. “I think she doesn’t trust our doctors,” he said with a tilt to his head and an expression of naïve disbelief.

“Can you blame her?” Sergei raised a brow sarcastically.

“Well, I had in mind a good physician, from the old communist regime. Not an arrogant puppy fresh out of medical school.”

“So she is sick and all alone in her room.”

“No, my

Generalle

. I called John. Tania came to help her. They are all around her now.”

Sergei slammed his fist on the table. “They are all around her. All but me. I should be the one taking care of her when she needs me. I’m going to the hotel.”

“No, you’re not.” Nicolai grabbed him by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Sergei. We, your officers, trust you and support you as our future president. Only you have enough dedication and loyalty to save Belarus from total collapse. Don’t jeopardize your position for a woman.”

Sergei scowled. “She’s not just a woman

, remember that.”

“Don’t let me rue the day I helped your relationship,” the colonel exploded. “Does she mean more to you than your country, than your officers, or your dead wife?”

Sergei closed his eyes and dropped his head backward. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted her. But could she really mean more than

Belarus?

No, nobody—not even his wife—had come before his country. He heaved a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Nicolai. I forgot my duty and my patriotism.” He threw a gloomy glance at Nicouvitch. The colonel leveled a sympathetic gaze on him, understanding his inner struggle.

“Go see her on my behalf. Take the flowers for her. Tell her I wish I could visit.”

Nicouvitch clasped his arm. “Thank you, Sergei, for coming back to your senses. I

will officially visit the American Program Manager on behalf of the Major G

eneralle

. It’s

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eneralle cannot be seen in her room.”

“The Major

Generalle of Belarus will never be allowed a private life.” Feeling dejected and guilty, Sergei let his brooding voice reflect his inner bitterness.

“I’ll keep you posted and as soon as she feels better I’ll bring her to you.”

Nicouvitch touched his heart. “I promise.”

“Cancel the Hall of Officers meeting and postpone the trip to the airport. The equipment can wait a few more days,” he ordered briskly. “Nicolai, take the steaks for your family.”

“Yes, my

Generalle

, thank you.” Nicouvitch left with a bag containing the food and the vase of roses wrapped in a newspaper.

* * * * *

Cozily ensconced in her bed, under comforters and blankets, Cecile dozed intermittently. Tania stayed with her while the men dined at the hotel restaurant. They had stopped by her room and checked on her, each one bringing whatever medicine he’d found in his safety kit. Preferring to let her stomach rest, she’d refused to swallow anything.

Right now, the vomiting had subsided but her missed date with the general hurt more than the pain in her stomach. She knew Sergei would make it up to her. Still their days and hours together were numbered. It was pathetic to be stuck in this bed when she could have been enjoying his bed and his company.

A knock on the door surprised her. The men had hardly started their dinner. Tania went to open the door and her exclamation reached Cecile. Her acting nurse came back to announce, “The colonel is here to see you. Can you receive him?”

Of course she would receive him. She wanted to hear news about Sergei. She raised herself on the pillows and asked Tania to hand her a sweater to wear in lieu of a robe.

The room was warm enough with the heating now allowed in Belarus but Cecile needed something to cover her pajamas.

“We hope you feel better. For you, from the Major

Generalle who wishes you a speedy recovery.”

Nicouvitch presented her a vase of gorgeous red roses. Delighted, she took the vase and stuck her nose in the flowers. “They smell divine.”

Poor Sergei, she imagined his disappointment. There was no way he could visit her in the hotel but he sent her the expensive flowers to cheer her up. “Please, tell the general I love the flowers. Thank him for me.”

She deposited the vase on the night table and twisted on the pillows to face it.

To her surprise, Nicouvitch unscrewed a bottle of vodka, filled a shot glass and handed it to her. Befuddled, she gasped. “Are you kidding? I can’t swallow anything.”

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“Trust me, Cecile, vodka is the best thing to cure you. It will cleanse your system.

You’ll be back to normal faster than you can count to ten.”

She grimaced. “I know it’s almost pure alcohol but be real. There’s no way I’m drinking this stuff in the shape I am.”

“Cecile, you treat your American ailments with your medication. In Belarus, vodka is the safest medicine. My mother used to stuff a spoon of vodka in our mouth when we were sick. Sure enough it would stop our cough.” He brought the glass to her lips. “A

few drinks will kill all your germs.”

“I must be crazy to listen to you.” She sighed and sipped from a shot glass until she emptied it. She felt warm and relaxed.

“Go ahead, a second one,” Nicouvitch coaxed as he gave her another drink.

“I’ll be drunk soon.” She giggled as she emptied the next one. “How many am I

supposed to down according to your prescription?”

“Two or three more until you sleep.”

In fact two shot glasses later, she couldn’t raise her head from the pillow. Tania helped her slide down into the bed. The last thing Cecile heard was Nicouvitch’s distant voice. “She’ll sleep until tomorrow. We should leave her now.”

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Chapter Eight

Things never changed. His duty to his country continued to detain him from the women he cherished at the very time they needed him.

In his flat, General Fedorin opened the window allowing the icy wind to cool his head. He stared absentmindedly at the surrounding buildings. Cecile was here, in

Minsk, several blocks away, sleeping or suffering in her room and he was forced to stay away.

So often, he had wished Cecile would need him. Sophia had been a delicate angel he protected and nurtured but Cecilya was a strong woman with a character of her own, intelligent, self-confident and assertive. She never asked for protection. All she wanted was love—although she’d never mentioned the word—and she was ready to accept whatever he gave her on his own terms. She had called him her general, her hero

.

His heart filled with tenderness…and with guilt.

He slammed the window shut and took the potato pot to the table, eating directly from it, hoping that Nicolai’s kids would enjoy the steaks. Surviving in Belarus on a colonel’s wages required much deprivation. He knew for a fact that most of his officers couldn’t afford meat more than once a week. Life in his country was difficult. He had made it his mission to try to improve it.

Sergei sighed, wondering if the pampered Dr. Lornier could adjust to their way of living, the subzero winter weather, the lack of heating during the cold months of the fall and the harsh details of their daily routine. He downed a shot of vodka while pondering the next question. Could she ever love him enough to give up her career and come to live in Minsk?

For a crazy minute, he fantasized, imagining her lying in his big bed, waking up at his side in the morning after a night of thorough lovemaking. Maybe fixing him breakfast or dinner.

No, he chuckled, Dr. Lornier was not much of a cook.

Who cared about food? He hungered for her body and her presence.

What if she agreed to stay with him?

“Be real, you fool.” He snorted and slammed his fist on the table. “You have nothing to offer, nothing but tenderness and love.”

He swallowed a second shot of vodka.

What if she craved these things? After all, she already possessed everything else, money and whatever it could buy and a successful career and its sterile glory.

If he asked her to marry him and stay in Belarus, they wouldn’t have to hide like teenagers on their first date. She would share his mission and help him—of that he was

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To Love a Hero sure. Cecile was a thoroughly active person and a generous woman. She would become a real Belarussian lady. His officers would overlook the fact she was a foreigner when they’d discover her dedication to his cause.

Marry

? Had he said that he wanted to marry her?

He closed his eyes and raised the bottle of vodka to his lips.

What happened to his promise of offering her only nights of happiness? How was he already jumping to marriage? Deep down, he struggled with the naked truth that he refused to acknowledge. He had fallen in love with her. She represented everything he wanted to find in a woman.

He emptied the bottle of vodka and smashed it against the wall. The glass shattered on the tile floor, broken in a thousand pieces like his dreams of love.

Major General of Belarus, you can only love your country. The rest is pure utopia. Wake up to your duty.

* * * * *

Cecile lifted heavy eyelids and closed them again. The bright light invading her room shocked her as much as the pounding that banged on her temples. Automatically, she retrieved the blanket over her head and willed the tapping to stop, to no avail.

Muddled images from the previous day floated in and out of her memory. The long trip, Sergei’s cheerful greeting, the pleasant ride in the Jeep, followed by the stomach pain and misery.

Her tummy grumbled, loud and clear, bringing back the picture of an officer handing shots of vodka. Had she really drunk that much?

She patted her belly, didn’t feel any pain there and chuckled. The vodka had knocked her out. His medication worked wonders. While she slept her body had recovered. Nicouvitch’s treatment had to be commended but the pain in her head was still acute. No wonder, after six shots, she was suffering from a severe hangover.

She carefully raised her head and braved the light to squint at her watch, three-

twenty.

Three o’clock in the afternoon!

She bolted out of her bed and held her head with both hands unable to believe she’d slept almost twenty hours in a row. The banging continued. Oh damn it. It was coming from the door. Approaching slowly in order not to lose her balance, she asked, “Yes?”

A Russian accent answered. “Cecile, are you okay? It’s Nicolai. Can you open the door?”

A glimpse at herself assured her that she was quite decent with the navy-blue sweater on top of her silk pajamas.

She opened the door and stood there. “Good morning, I mean good afternoon, Nicolai. I just woke up.”

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A bright smile highlighted his worried expression. “Good. Our grandmothers’

medication seems to have worked as usual. If you feel up to it, would you like to come for a ride in my car? Someone is waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh my God, he’s here? Yes, I can make it. Give me fifteen minutes I’ll join you.”

“Dress very warmly in case you want to take a walk. It’s chilly outside.”

She nodded and backed into her room. She donned layers of extra clothing under her mohair sweater and wool pants, wore the high-heeled boots, added a sleeveless leather jacket and topped it all with her coat and chapka

.

In less than the time requested, Cecile ran down to the lobby, strode out of the hotel to the little beige car and slid into the backseat and into Sergei’s arms. Nicouvitch took off at high speed, propelling them backward and away from each other. Like misbehaving children, they edged away and held hands.

Nicolai stopped in front of his own building. The two officers jumped out of the car.

“Please, stay in the backseat. We’ll attract less attention,” Sergei requested.

“Where are we going?” Cecile asked without real curiosity. As long as she shared his company, the place didn’t matter.

His cheerful voice surprised her. “You’ll see. I have arranged a special afternoon for us.” His last word brought a beaming smile to her face.

Nicolai handed him the Volvo key. “Enjoy yourself, moy drouk

.”

Sergei slid into the driver’s seat. “I sold my car six months ago. As a Major General, I’m always chauffeured around. I never thought I would need it so badly.”

He drove on the highway, leaving the bustling city behind and exited to the countryside. They soon crossed a park where brooks crisscrossed the frozen grassland and forests of tall barren trees hid the horizon. The car meandered along an alley of well-trimmed pine trees and circled around an icy surface. “I wish you could see the park in summer or spring. A gorgeous place for family picnics. Now the pond is frozen and no one would brave the cold to come here.”

“Oh how pretty.” Cecile glimpsed a picturesque yellow house through the barrier of trees. Sergei stopped the car in front of a terrace adorned with side columns. He helped her out. “Let’s take a walk then we’ll go inside.”

“Is it open?”

“Usually not at this time of the year but I rented it for the evening. This palace often hosts receptions and weddings in the summer.”

He pulled a bag out of the trunk. “You need to eat something to sustain you ’til supper.”

A smell of baked cake wafted in the cold air. He handed her the rolls of sweet bread and she bit into one with hungry eagerness. “Thanks. I haven’t eaten anything since we arrived in Minsk.” Sergei always thought about her welfare. A warm feeling invaded her heart.

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They strolled toward the pond. Sergei pointed to the line of sculptures decorating the edge of the pond. “Our czarina Katarina, as we called Catherine the Great, built this little mansion. You can see her statue here.” Cecile ate her cake and listened to his enthusiastic description of his country’s national heritage. “Over the years, Katarina’s

Palace became a vacation hideaway for the czar’s family. Later on, Stalin used it for his summer soviet meetings.”

They sauntered around the pond pausing every so often, here and there, to admire a statue or a fountain.

At four-thirty in the afternoon, the pale daylight rapidly ebbed. The chill stung her face and tickled her lashes. In spite of the amount of clothing she wore and the scarf wrapped around her neck, Cecile felt cold. The twilight abated and soon darkness swallowed them. Walking back toward the mansion, Sergei linked her arm with his, guiding her steps along the bleak ridge lining the pond.

He paused at the bottom of the terrace and gathered her in his arms. She hooked her gloved hands around his neck.

“Are you cold, Cecilya?”

She cuddled against him. “Not anymore. But we’re completely nuts to stay outdoors on such a cold night.”

“Lovers are always a little crazy.” He cradled her face between his hands, pushing the scarf away and gave her a heartbreaking kiss. Strolling with Sergei in the night, even in such chilly weather, would be added to her album of beautiful memories.

“Let’s go inside.” He marched toward the mansion entrance and pulled her in a fast crisp walk that warmed her in spite of the cold.

He opened the door and let her in. Cecile halted in the doorway stunned by the incredible luxury of the furnishings. “It’s so beautiful,” she said as she scanned the antique chest, needlepoint-covered chairs and gilded clock.

“This way.” Sergei preceded her to a drawing room on the right side. A fire burned in the marble ceiling-high fireplace. The opulent room felt cozy and warm. A room fit for a czar, indeed, with plush sofas, French furniture and oil paintings of kings or queens.

Next to the fireplace, she noticed a round table set for two. She arched her eyebrows. Sergei smiled. “We’ll have dinner, now. It’s ready. I’ll get it from the kitchen.”

Flabbergasted, she opened her mouth and shut it, not knowing what to say. He went to so much trouble for her. She thought of the expenditure and wondered if he’d accept her contribution. She’d hate to hurt his pride.

He yanked off his sweater. Her gaze followed the dark curls at the base of his throat and the muscles that stretched the knitted long sleeve shirt. A magnificent specimen of hard sturdy masculinity tamed into the kindest, most gallant gentleman. For the moment, he was all hers.

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Sergei came back pushing a glass cart. She watched in awe as he set two dishes filled with chicken, potato sauté and mushrooms. He eyed her with a dubious expression. “Are you still cold?”

“No, no. I was admiring this sumptuous room.” Cecile laughed and got rid of her winter paraphernalia, gloves, coat, hat, scarf, even her sweater, keeping only her turtleneck.

“Please have a seat.” He held a chair for her and then poured wine in the glasses.

“To us.” Sergei raised his wineglass and she clinked her glass against his, a sheen of moisture wetting her eyes. For the second time in the evening, he’d referred to them as a couple.

Cecile tasted the food. “Delicious. I can’t thank you enough. I never imagined I

would eat dinner in the czar’s palace.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I heard the medication of Nicolai’s grandmother did wonders for you.”

“Amazing! Cured by the vodka. Soon I’ll be writing an essay on the benefits of potato fermentation.”

Sergei burst out laughing. “You’re getting used to our national drink.”

“Can you believe I slept almost twenty hours in a row?” A feeling of guilt nagged at her. She bit her lips and threw him a lopsided glance. He had waited for her while she recuperated in complete oblivion. “I’m sorry. I missed our date.”

“Well you had to make up for the time you spent awake while traveling.” He smiled with understanding.

Cecile elaborated about her time in Boston and the difficult trip back to Belarus.

“The equipment is at the airport waiting to be retrieved. I’ll arrange its transfer to the

Belchem Lab with Nicolai and Alexander.”

“Please, no more business talk. I want you to relax.”

When they finished their dinner, she tried to clear the table but he stopped her.

“Don’t move. I’ll bring the cake. We don’t need to clean the dishes. It’s part of the service.”

“Talking about the service and you renting this place, can I—”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need. We’ll enjoy it together.” He bent and feathered a light kiss on her lips before exiting the room.

Sergei went to the kitchen and brought back two small plates with chocolate cake.

Mesmerized, he paused with the plates in his hands.

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Sitting on the Oriental rug, with her feet tucked underneath her, Cecile resembled a porcelain doll, delicate and deceptively frail. She had followed his advice and assumed a relaxed position.

“Dessert time.” He handed her part.

She finished her cake and licked her lips. “I love the local delicacies.”

“Good.” Sitting beside her, Sergei gazed at her, fire burning in the depths of his blue eyes.

Her hair, a tumble of shiny gold enhanced by the fiery glow, framed her lovely features. Her eyes sparkled like emerald stones freckled with gold. Sergei forgot the cake, a different hunger building in his groin.

“You’re beautiful.” He reached and caressed her cheek. “How I missed you, my darling. First the long weeks away and then last night. Will you ever forgive me for not coming to see you while you were sick?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She pulled away and waggled a finger at him. “Sergei, don’t ever think about such a crazy act. Coming to the hotel would ruin your career. I

have never, for a second, resented you for not visiting. And I loved your flowers,” she added with a smile that beamed and beckoned.

He claimed her lips and explored the sweetness of her mouth. Cecile wrapped her arms around his neck. Her soft body, cradled against his, kindled his blood with a heat more smoldering than the fire.

Sergei lowered her on the rug and followed ,  h a l f  l y i n g  o n  t o p  o f  h e r .  H e  k e p t himself in check, waiting for her to encourage him.

Their gazes locked. In the green flames of her eyes, he read the same longing. How he wished he could keep her in his arms forever. One more time, he cursed the constraint of his position, the high and mighty position that forced them to steal minutes of happiness like guilty youths. Still, he didn’t want to rush her. He had promised himself he would offer her a perfect evening.

Soft fingers played with the hair at his nape, tickling and enticing. With the tip of his tongue, he contoured her lips, tasting and teasing. Her body arched against him, jolting a spark in his loins. He crushed her mouth, deepening his kiss and she responded with urgency.

His passion overrode common sense and logic. He hadn’t planned to love her on a rug but he wanted her and she’d shown the same desperate hunger. His hands eased under the layers of clothing until they touched bare flesh. He felt her relax in his embrace. His fingers roamed freely across her back, then over her breasts and he fondled them with care and love. Fire spread and raged within his body.

He heard a soft ragged breathing. Cecile snatched her mouth and buried her head against his shoulder. “Oh Sergei, I love you.”

Tenderness flooded his heart. “Cecilya.” He trailed hot blazing kisses over her cheeks, eyelids and lips. “My Cecilya, I love you. I will love you forever.”

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She smiled. Her fingers curled around his neck. She pulled his head down and pressed her lips on his.

As they remained entwined, the words of love spoken in the heat of the moment sank into his dazed mind. He released her mouth and stared at her lovely face flushed with passion. His lust forgotten, he only thought of his impossible dream.

Straightening to a sitting position, Sergei pulled her up with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her back welded to his chest and rested his chin against her head. He wanted more than a few nights of passion. Wondering how to broach the paramount question, he stared at the fire and sighed.

Cecile twisted her head toward him. He noticed her puzzled expression. He curled a strand of her hair around his finger. Would he dive straight into the subject or tiptoe around it?

“Cecilya, you’ve gotten used to our vodka. How about the cold, does it still bother you? During your last trip, you shivered every other minute.”

Cecile snuggled against him and shook her head. “No more, with the central heating back in the hotel and the little heater in my room, the temperature is just correct. And outside, I’ve learned to wear layers and layers of clothes.”

“Hmm. I noticed.” He chuckled. “It’s a pain but I can manage.” In spite of the dimness, he noticed a flush of embarrassment on her face. “If you get cold let me know.” He pointed to the bottles of wine and vodka sitting on the table.

“Not yet. Not with you,” she assured him.

He squeezed her against him. His body was so hot, it could melt the ice on the ground but his brain felt numb, unable to formulate what his heart was screaming.

Cecile squirmed against Sergei, noting the stillness of his shoulders, the silence that had subtly descended between them. Was he having second thoughts about telling her he loved her?

She raised her head and stared at him. “You’re very quiet, Sergei.”

“Hmm…Tell me, Cecilya. What do you think about my flat?” he quipped all of a sudden. “Of course, it is much smaller than your luxurious condo.”

Was there challenge in his voice? Some bitterness? “Sergei, I love your flat. It’s bright and cozy,” she said, hoping to reassure him.

“If you wanted to change anything, what would it be?” he asked in earnest.

Bemused by his line of questioning, she wondered what he was getting at. “You mean, if I wanted to redecorate it?”

“Yes, precisely. How would you, let’s say, modernize it?”

Cecile tilted her head and fantasized out loud. “I would improve on the kitchen. I’d keep the marble countertop but I’d add more cabinets. I like the living room as is. On second thought, I’d change the dark blue sofa for a lighter beige one.” Caught at her

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He suddenly grabbed her hands. “And then, once it’s arranged to your taste, would you get used to it?”

She was afraid to guess. Did he want her to move to his flat?

Silence enveloped them as she pondered the question.

Sergei pulled her into his arms and groaned against her hair, “Cecilya, my love, marry me.”

Her breath caught in her chest. Her eyes rounded. Had she heard him right? Her hand flew to her throat.

“Cecilya, we’ve been fools, arrogant fools. We thought we could control our feelings, deny our love. My darling, I can’t keep it hidden any longer. I love you. I love you so much.” He trailed his lips on her forehead and her cheeks and captured her mouth in a long bone-melting kiss.

The world spun around her but her heart sang.

He truly loves me. Loves me enough to put me ahead of his dreams

.

He eased her away. “Well, tell me that you’ll marry me.”

Her throat constricted and her eyes welled with tears. He pressed his lips against her eyelids. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh Sergei, how I’ve dreamed of hearing these words. So many times, I said them loud to myself, just to hear them, ‘I love you, my General. I love you, my hero’.”

“Well, say it again. Tell me that you want to marry me.” He squeezed her so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Cecile squirmed against him. “I love you. I love you. I can say it all night.” She sealed her lips on his and he deepened the kiss. An eternity later, she pulled her mouth away and fixed a long gaze on him. Her shoulders slumped. “But I can’t marry you.”

“What are you saying?” He lurched forward and clutched her arms.

“No, Sergei. There’s no future together for the Major General of Belarus and the

American Program Manager. We knew it from day one and we gambled. And now we’re burned at our own game. I’ll go away and you’ll forget me.” Needles of regret pierced her heart as she heard herself rejecting his proposal, his love, his promise of happiness at his side, in his arms.

“Can’t you give up your pampered life and live with me?” Bitterness creaked through his voice.

“I’d gladly give up my miserable luxury, Sergei. It doesn’t bring love and happiness. Only you do,” she cried out, desperate that he would misinterpret her unselfish refusal. “But what if you lose your position? What if your officers think you betrayed them? What about your country, your dear Belarus, Sergei? Won’t you resent me for stealing away your utmost love, the goal of your life?”

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He stared at her blankly. She’d hit the right chord. He didn’t protest. She raised her hands and cupped his face. “You’re right I was an arrogant fool, assertive and forceful at work but so vulnerable in my heart. And yes, I can’t give up my work, although I

hate it right now.”

She felt the blazing heat of his gaze and heard the thudding of his heart, his heavy breathing stomping in the silence of the room. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned her head and stood up. He straightened up and gathered her against him.

“Don’t go away, Cecilya. Life is already hard as it is. I’ve offered all I could.”

“I know, my love. And I’ll treasure your offer.” She looked at him with sadness and desperation. There was nothing more to say. She put on her coat and her hat and wrapped the scarf around her neck. He yanked on his coat and chapka and opened the door. Holding her hand, he walked her to the car.

Sergei drove away. He didn’t talk and she couldn’t utter a word. She felt numb, bruised and hurt. For a crazy second, she almost cried, “I love you. I’ll marry you.” But she knew it would destroy them both.

Sergei parked the car far away from the hotel, next to the sidewalk lining the river.

He helped her out and enfolded her in his arms. She breathed deeply inhaling his warm breath and the chilly wind.

Fire and ice, that’s what my life is about

.

They walked hand in hand through the night until they saw the hotel’s lights. She stopped next to a tree. “Please, let me go in alone. I’ll be fine.”

He held her one more time in his arms. “Tonight, we almost made love in a palace.

It was heaven.”

She stifled a sob and kissed him with love and despair. He pulled her away from him. “Go, before I stop you forever.”

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Go, please, go.”

“Sergei, will we see each other again, alone?” She was waiting for his verdict as if it was her fault, as if she was responsible for messing up their relationship.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t touch her anymore.

Her eyes welled with unshed tears. She started running toward the hotel, unaware of her surroundings and the sudden cold that stiffened her spine. As she reached the glass door, she turned around. She couldn’t see him in the darkness but guessed he was still there, against the tree, protecting her from afar. She swallowed a sob.

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Chapter Nine

Cecile reached her room in a daze. She found two aspirins in her medical kit, then reconsidered. They would upset her stomach. How she wished she could swallow a shot of vodka, the efficient and universal remedy in Minsk. She already regretted her foolish refusal.

Sergei wanted her as his wife…

Why hadn’t she accepted? Why didn’t she ask for time to consider his proposal?

Would she always put duty before happiness? His duty to his country. Her duty to her lab.

Be honest with yourself.

It wasn’t just about duty and work.

She was afraid.

They were two strong personalities used to being in control of themselves and others. As his wife, she would give up everything that had been her life and become his shadow. Granted it was the shadow of a hero, a wonderful lover who made her yearn to stay in his arms but still a shadow without personality, without position, without personal achievement.

As an American woman in love with her freedom, how could she survive the continuous surveillance?

Could she share his fierce patriotism?

Too many questions with negative answers.

No, a marriage would not survive. They were too similar and their countries too different.

With pain clutching at her heart, she recognized she made the right decision.

* * * * *

Sergei stood to greet the American delegation. Cecile’s perfume invaded his nostrils as soon as she entered his office. He stiffened and remained rooted to his desk. Clasping his hands behind his back, he avoided the torture of shaking her hand in an official way. He just nodded to all of them.

“

Dubra outra

, good morning, my friends. I’d like to see the analytical results of the samples and discuss the equipment retrieval from the airport.”

Last night, he had promised himself he would smother his love and try to snatch her out of his thoughts. Cecilya didn’t understand his patriotism. She’d refused to share his simple life and glorious dream. So be it, he would continue to live only for Belarus.

As an officer, he could accept hardship without complaint but the rampant pain that

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She had already given him the results of analysis and he trusted her professional opinion but this morning, he wanted to see her again. He’d called the meeting just to keep her beside him as long as he could. But he wouldn’t trust himself alone with her.

Cecile rummaged through her briefcase and pulled out a yellow folder. She handed it to him. “General, these numbers represent the concentration of carcinogens in your sample. The values are high, too high for safety. In the US, we would say that they are above the maximum allowable limit for healthy conditions.” With a yellow marker, she highlighted the numbers on her report sheet.

As soon as she’d entered his office, Sergei had noticed the dark edges shadowing her eyes. She too hadn’t slept much, apparently. He wanted to take her in his arms, crush her lips with his mouth and cover her with caresses and kisses. Instead, he forced himself to listen to the technical details.

Sergei inhaled deeply then exhaled, a terrible load weighing on his chest. The results showed that more people were going to die if nothing was done to alleviate the pollution.

His gaze scanned the little group, resting on each one of them. “What can we do to clean the environment? We don’t have the means or the money.” He stiffened, refusing to give in to despair about Belarus’ terrible hazardous waste situation.

Silence hovered over the group. Nicouvitch raised helpless hands. “Dr. Lornier would do her part, set up the lab and train the chemists but the environmental cleanup is way beyond her budget and the scope of her contract.”

John banged on the desk. “I think we can help you.” His voice thundered through the room. They all snapped to attention. Cecile spun toward him.

Nicouvitch grabbed John’s shoulders. “Speak, my friend. What’s your suggestion?”

A huge smile spread on John’s face. “Simple, another contract. EAL contract encompasses the refurbishment of the lab and training of the chemists. But the extent of the US aid goes beyond the few millions allocated to Cecile’s project. Here’s what we should do.”

He inched toward the desk and scribbled on a blank pad. They gathered around him.

Cecile snatched the sheet of paper. “Go ahead. Think out loud. I’ll write.”

In spite of himself, Sergei smiled, touched by her eagerness to help.

“The general will request more aid. Cecile, you and your guys can write the requirements for the environmental cleanup. I’ll set up a contract and include your proposal in a formal request. I’ll ask my department to approve it and will highly recommend EAL. Who knows, maybe your company will win this second phase and provide the equipment necessary for the cleanup?”

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Sergei extended his arm and shook John’s hand. “Thank you, my friend, you are helping me to fulfill the goal of my life.” Once more the American delegation had brightened his life and the future of his citizens.

Nicouvitch added his thanks to John with a bear-hug. The contract director seemed as pleased as if he had received the Nobel Prize.

John turned to Cecile and spread his arms wide open. “Hey, where is my hug, lady?”

She wrapped her arms around the large shoulders and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “I think you deserve thanks for this brilliant idea.” Hmm, a brilliant idea.

Except that…she’d have to involve Rob in this new contract. Would she ask Rob to come? Could she stand his patronizing attitude and belittling comments?

“Am I not a genius? You’re going to do all the work, Dr. Lornier and I’ll get the credit.” John’s booming laughter filled the office and they all chuckled.

Sergei stared at them. How he longed to open his arms to keep her molded against his chest. But he couldn’t. She had turned him down because of his love for his country.

And she was right. From now on, he would think only of Belarus, his duty and his reputation.

He raised a hand. “My friends, can I ask you a favor? There are people who will try to stop any plan originating from my office. I would like to keep this new project secret until it is approved by the USA and officially announced here. No one, absolutely no one, should know about it.”

Nicouvitch cleared his throat a couple of times, requesting their attention. “The second item on our agenda is tomorrow’s visit to the airport to retrieve the equipment. I

filed an application with the customs bureau of the Ministry of Defense. It should be signed and sent to the airport. We’ll find it there.” He sighed. “If everything goes well.”

Cecile’s frown deepened. “Why would things go wrong?”

Sergei shook his head. “Because the officer who is supposed to sign the application is my dear father-in-law. The customs bureau is under his jurisdiction and he seems determined to undermine every one of my projects.”

With a shrug, Sergei dismissed the potential problem. He’d found a way to accomplish his dream of ridding his country from carcinogens and was not going to worry about the details right now. His colonel could handle the situation with his usual efficiency.

Cecile turned to face him. His body ached with need for her. He felt crippled by invading emotion, a hunger to reach for her, a burning desire to hold her in his arms and make mad, passionate love to her.

He made an effort to remain unperturbed by her pleading look.

“General, as soon as I retrieve the equipment from the airport I’ll work with you on the requirements of the new proposal.” Contradictory emotions played on her face, assertiveness, reassurance and supplication.

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He arched an eyebrow. She wanted to see him but on her own terms. Without smiling, he acknowledged her offer.

“Thank you, Cecile. We’ll see how things work out tomorrow at the airport.”

He was losing his grip on his control with every passing moment. He stood, signaling the end of the meeting and bowed, formal and polite, without handshakes or hand-kissing. Her gaze, puzzled and sad, pierced his heart.

In the past, even with people around them, he’d managed to reach her directly or through his colonel. Today, he’d turned a page, a very short one, crowded with feelings.

There was no room for feelings in their worlds.

At the door, Cecile paused and turned. She threw him a desperate look, her eyes a shining green pool of tears. He clenched his jaw and sat at his desk, his muscles rigid and tense. How long could he ignore her?

* * * * *

In complete arctic weather attire, Cecile braved the frigid winter to head to the airport at two o’clock in the afternoon. Paul, Jeffrey, John and Dr. Kadelov settled in the back of a large military Jeep driven by Colonel Nicouvitch.

At the airport, Nicolai parked in front of the customs zone. He knocked on the door of an office, then entered. Cecile and Kadelov followed him while the others waited outside the cramped little room. Nicolai greeted the clerk. “

Dubra deen, Comrade

.”

After five minutes of animated conversation and hand gestures, the colonel’s face turned red. His voice rose. Through her limited vocabulary and their facial expressions, she could guess the discussion was not proceeding in the right direction. Cecile waited for Nicolai to translate the Russian conversation.

“The clerk has not received the permit from the customs bureau. He cannot release the equipment without it.”

Damn Roussov, he hadn’t sent the permit.

Nicolai pointed to the decorations on his chest and shoved what looked like his identity card under the man’s nose but the other just shook his head.

She heard a lot of

Niet, niet, niet

.

Nicolai banged on the desk. The clerk sprung up from his chair and spread his arms with his palms open, then nodded and dialed a telephone number.

This time, the words uttered were, Da, da

, okay, okay, before the clerk hung up the phone and talked to Nicolai. He shook his hands several times, crossing them back and forth on top of each other, in a denial gesture. The colonel hammered the desk while shouting.

At least she understood the body language and put a restraining hand on Nicolai’s arm. “Calm down. I’m sure there must be some confusion here. Explain to me what this guy said.”

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“He has not received the permit.” Nicolai inhaled and exhaled deeply. “He called to inquire. They said, ‘the permit would be signed when Colonel Roussov has time’. And now, this man can’t release the analytical equipment and can’t break the regulations.”

Nicolai rubbed his forehead and hesitated before adding, “They also told him that if the

American Program Manager wants a permit for her equipment she has to call Colonel

Roussov herself.”

Cecile gasped. “The jerk, he wants me to call him.”

“No way, Cecile. Don’t.” Nicolai shook his hand.

“Why not, Colonel?” Dr. Kadelov interfered, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Maybe Colonel Roussov wants some information about the equipment. I don’t see why Dr. Lornier cannot call him. It will make things easier for all of us. We’re not talking about simple tools, here. This shipment represents a lot of analytical instruments.”

Obviously, Alexander hadn’t dealt with Roussov the way she and Sergei had. She would call Roussov. She needed this equipment out of the airport and in the Belchem

Lab as soon as possible.

“Tell this guy I will call Colonel Roussov and I will be back tomorrow to get my stuff.”

Kadelov translated. “He says, ‘make sure you come tomorrow because after that he will be away for the rest of the week and his substitute is not a patient man.’ We cannot stay longer in his office, Cecile. He has to take care of other people.”

“How come this guy has no permit?” She stubbornly refused to leave and moved her chair to the corner of the room watching a new petitioner fill out a paper and hand it to the clerk.

Nicolai talked to the clerk who sighed and raised his arms up with hands wide-

open. “He said you are a very difficult woman. This man is retrieving agricultural machines and doesn’t need a special permit. You are dealing with chemical and analytical instruments. They are listed as dangerous and cannot be released without a permit from the Bureau of National Security. Now, can we go?”

Cecile chewed on her lip for a moment. “Who told him that our equipment is

‘chemical and analytical instruments’?”

Nicolai fixed a questioning look on her. “As soon as we entered, I told him that the permit for ‘chemical and analytical instruments’ should have been sent to him.”

She sighed. “I see. So he wouldn’t have known otherwise. Too bad you talked too fast.”

“But you cannot hide that fact.” Nicolai’s face reddened with righteous indignation.

In the hallway, they explained to John, Jeffrey and Paul the outcome of their useless conversation with the clerk.

During the drive back to the hotel, the men discussed the best approach to solve the problem, mingling advice and suggestions. Cecile remained quiet, ensconced in her

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After he dropped them in front of the hotel, the colonel took her aside. “Please, for your own sake, don’t call Roussov. Sergei will never forgive you.”

“How else am I going to get the equipment? I have to set the lab in order to fulfill both my contract and Sergei’s plan for analyzing the soil of Minsk.”

“Forget the soil. Forget the lab for a moment. Think about Sergei and how mad he will be,” he said with earnest.

“Today, he already seemed upset at me.” She scowled, bitterness overwhelming her heart. “Believe me, Nicolai, I care more about Sergei’s plan than my own contract. I can always have other contracts. For him, it’s the goal of his life. I have to get the equipment from the airport. Please, don’t tell Sergei about my meeting with Roussov.” She may lose her general but she would give him a proof of her love. She would set up the lab as fast as possible.

“I’ll keep your secret. Do what you think is best but be very careful. You’ll be dealing with the devil himself.”

* * * * *

Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Cecile debated how to handle Roussov.

With a Machiavellian mind like his, she needed a good plan of action and a backup one.

She had to see him all right but in a way that meant he couldn’t harm her or force himself on her, in case he’d ever consider it.

On a sudden impulse, she jumped from her bed, took her key and rushed down the corridor to John’s room.

Cecile knocked a couple of times before and opened the unlocked door. “Hey, what a good surprise,” John said. “Come on in, my dear, join us.” She entered and found

Paul sitting in a chair across from the bed.

He stood and gave her his place. “We were drinking and brainstorming about the best way to handle this difficult situation.” They both sat on the bed facing her. John reached for the vodka bottle.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka, even when you are alone without

Belarussians around,” she said with a half-smile.

John filled a shot glass and handed it to her while Paul laughed. “The Belarussians are right. This liquor has incredible benefits. Two days ago, it cured you and right now it’s stirring our brain cells into action.”

“Well, I didn’t come to drink but if your head is still clear, I’ll ask for your opinion.

We have a big problem here. I need to solve it without ruffling too many feathers.”

“Why do you think Roussov insists on you personally calling him?” John raked his frizzy hair with a nervous hand. She could see that he didn’t dare ask a more specific question.

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Paul didn’t have such qualms. “Hey boss, did he make any unpleasant advances?”

“No but…” She paused and they both narrowed their eyes. Her gaze flicked from one to the other. “I think his attitude is more directed at harming Sergei. But I don’t know how he plans to achieve this goal if that’s what he has in mind.”

They forgot to drink for a moment, John staring straight ahead and Paul fixing a bleak look at his shoes.

“When you’re done squeezing your brain for a plausible explanation, I’ll share my plan with you.” They both focused an expectant gaze on her. “I’ll call Roussov and ask him for the permit. Now if he insists, I’ll agree to meet with him.”

She hesitated, not sure about how much she wanted to reveal. Paul arched a questioning brow. He knew her well enough to guess her nervousness. “Is there anything else we need to know? You can trust us. We are in the same boat. It wouldn’t be fair for you to cope with all the problems alone.”

He was right. They wanted to help her and she owed them some explanation. She related her previous encounters with Roussov but didn’t mention her relationship with

Sergei.

They listened intently. “If you insist on meeting with him, do it in a big restaurant.

We’ll drop you off and wait for you outside,” Paul suggested.

Cecile shrugged. “I don’t think he would physically attack me. I’m more afraid of what he’ll say or ask.”

Paul swallowed a sip of his drink. “In that case, take your little memo recorder.

Turn it on. If he harasses you, we’ll have proof of it.”

“Great idea. I’ll do that.”

John scratched his head. “We better take the bull by the horns. You should call him right now, Cecile, so we can listen to the conversation.”

He handed her the telephone. She dialed the number of the Ministry of Defense, asked for Colonel Roussov and was transferred to his office. A secretary put her on hold, then she heard the syrupy voice of Sergei’s father-in-law greeting her as if she was his longtime friend.

She went straight to the point. “Colonel Roussov, we were at the airport this afternoon to retrieve the equipment. I was told that you hadn’t signed the permit yet.

Are you by any chance opposed to the US aid to Belarus?”

“Dr. Lornier, please, I am shocked.” On the other end of the line, his voice grated on her nerves, polite but chiming with righteous indignation. “How can you ever imagine such a thing? I am so grateful for the aid provided by your country.”

If she hadn’t seen Roussov on two previous occasions and personally felt the sting of his malevolence, she would have sworn he was the sweetest man on Earth.

“Well, why didn’t you sign the permit?” she hissed through gritted teeth while fighting to keep her calm.

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“You’re a busy person, Dr. Lornier. You, more than anyone, should understand that a man in my position dealing with so many responsibilities can overlook one of the hundreds of papers piled on his desk for a signature.” His voice dripped with kindness.

“I would like to prove my good intentions. We will meet for dinner in a downtown restaurant. I will sign the permit and give it to you.”

Cecile brought her fingers to her mouth and gestured to her friends that he wanted to take her to dinner. John wrote on a piece of paper, “Don’t worry. Go ahead.”

She bit her lip and suppressed a sigh. “Colonel, I’d be honored to join you. Please, give me the address of the restaurant.”

He wanted to pick her up but she refused and he didn’t insist. She hung up and repeated the conversation. “I’ll see him tomorrow at seven. He’s up to something but I

can’t guess what.”

She swallowed hard, unable to discard the image of his hand grasping her shoulder on the sidewalk and his devilish gaze glued to her face.

The next morning, Cecile joined her companions in the hotel restaurant for a cup of coffee. Her mind riveted on her dinner with Roussov, she had hardly slept the previous night, one hypothesis after another swirling around in her brain. His invitation to a reputable restaurant eliminated the conjecture that he’d try to impose himself on her.

She still couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for his determination to take her out.

They were surprised to see Colonel Nicouvitch walking into the hotel dining room.

He settled beside them and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Tell me, my friends, what are your plans for today?” The four men looked at Cecile.

With a nervous finger, she rubbed the scowl knitting her forehead. “I don’t know about John but we’re going to the Belchem Lab. We have a lot of work there. Jeffrey is continuing the computer training. Paul and I are meeting with Kadelov to plan the logistics of the equipment installation.”

The colonel rubbed his hands around his cup and leaned toward them. “No trip to the airport today?”

This was a sore point for her. “No, not today. Hopefully tomorrow.” Cecile sighed.

If tonight’s dinner didn’t turn into a fiasco. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

“I explained to my generalle that the equipment will not be retrieved for a couple of days. He suggested that you and John come to work with him on the new proposal.”

His gaze shifted from her to John.

Her headache melted like snow under blazing sun. Seeing Sergei would infuse her with a good dose of optimism.

“Great idea, Nicolai. Jeffrey and Paul can handle the Belchem planning without me.

Let’s go.”

Out of the restaurant, Nicolai held her arm. “Cecile, I didn’t talk to Sergei about

Roussov. Are you still going to meet with him?”

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She breathed deeply and smiled to reassure him. “Yes but I’ll be careful and watch every word I say. Don’t worry. I’ve faced difficult situations before.” She didn’t tell him that her throat was so constricted she hadn’t been able to swallow a bite since the previous evening.

* * * * *

Sergei received them with a big smile. He shook John’s hand and bent over hers for a lingering kiss that warmed her wrist and created a little lump in her throat. For the last two days she’d wondered if he’d managed to snatch her out of his heart. But he was back to his old self, with his grand manners. Had he forgotten and forgiven her refusal to marry him?

They worked for a couple of hours, the three men hunched over their pads, brainstorming and scrawling while Cecile sorted their requirements and typed on her laptop. On and off, Sergei’s deep blue gaze connected with hers and rested on her face.

She reveled in the reassurance it sent her. He still wanted her, cared for her.

“In summary, we need a machine to clean the soil and another to filter the water,”

the general concluded, while arching his eyebrows. “What do you suggest, Cecile?”

She blinked. The only thing she wanted to suggest was for him to dismiss the two others and take her into his arms. She couldn’t concentrate on environmental pollution when her own environment encompassed strong healthy arms and a muscular body she yearned to press herself against.

Her fingers rubbed her forehead as she tried to recall her professional faculties.

“There is a cleanup procedure for the soil.” She summarized it without too many technical details. “It’s easy and very efficient.”

From the blank looks the two officers sent her way, she realized her explanations sounded like Chinese.

“If you say so,” Nicolai sighed.

The general asked. “What about the water cleaning?”

“There’s another more delicate technique.”

“You mean as incomprehensible? Can our scientists learn these procedures?” the colonel asked, worry lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Of course.” Cecile tried to reassure them. “Trust me these machines are easier to learn than the analytical equipment waiting at the airport. Technical specialists will install the machines and train your scientists.”

In spite of her refusal to marry Sergei, she knew that she loved him with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t marry him because she was convinced it would hurt both of them but she would do anything to prove to Sergei that she loved him.

Anything?

Yes. Even inviting Rob Spencer to coordinate the cleanup. It was his area of expertise. She took a deep breath. For Sergei, she’d put her stubbornness aside and deal

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“Cecile,” John said, while rubbing his hands. “You’ll help me formulate this proposal with all the technical details. Tomorrow, I’ll e-mail it to my boss for approval.”

“Thank you, my friends. John, if I know you well by now, you must be very thirsty.” The general grinned. “Reach into m y  c l o s e t  a n d  p o u r  u s  s o m e  v o d k a  t o celebrate. Nicolai will help you.”

While both men strode to the back of the room, Sergei put a restraining hand on

Cecile’s. “Cecilya, I miss you so much,” he whispered in her ear. “I wanted to stay away from you. But I can’t. Please, come to my flat tonight.”

Her heart hummed with joy. She smiled.

And then she winced. Her shoulders slumped as she remembered she had to meet with Roussov in the evening. It was the only way to get the equipment from the airport and set up the lab. Turning down Sergei’s company to go with his enemy was the hardest thing on Earth at that moment. She would give a year of her life to accept his invitation.

With a blink and a sad smile, she asked, “Can I come tomorrow instead?”

“A vodka toast to celebrate the new proposal,” John boomed.

Sergei answered “Of course,” to both of them but his smile disappeared and his questioning gaze rested on her for a few excruciating seconds.

They drank one toast and right away Sergei stood, dismissing them. “You will excuse me, my friends. I am expected at the Ministry of Defense. Thank you for all your help.”

He shook hands with her and John. There was no smile or hand kissing. With a heart laden with sorrow and a taste of bile in her mouth, she dragged herself out of his office.

At the hotel, Nicolai left her with a somber, “Good luck. Be very careful.”

In the elevator, John grabbed her arm. “You’re coming to have a late lunch with me.

I noticed you didn’t eat anything this morning.” On the second floor, he pulled her along toward the dining room. “I know anxiety can cut one’s appetite. But you were sick three days ago. You’ll need all your strength for tonight.”

Cecile appreciated his paternal solicitude. John was a good man, even if he sometimes lacked finesse. He ordered for both of them and almost forced her to eat.

After lunch, he walked her to her room.

“I think you’re making too much out of this dinner. If you succeed it’ll be good. If not, we’ll try something else. I may ask our ambassador to intercede. After all, this

Roussov has no right to obstruct our project.” He patted her shoulder. “We’ll see you downstairs at six-thirty. We’ll go in Tania’s van.”

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Cecile sighed. John knew only part of the problem. She couldn’t care less about

Roussov. Her concern was all for Sergei. Right now, she resented her contract and the lab refurbishment that entrapped her in tonight’s ambush.

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Chapter Ten

Cecile pressed a fist against her side to tame her racing heartbeat and curtail the burning pain of her stomach. Lifting her head, she squinted at the neon lights blinking the restaurant’s name in multicolored flashes.

John, Paul, Jeffrey and Tania would meet her in a couple of hours. She took a deep breath and strode to the entrance. In the hall, Cecile gave her name to the receptionist and asked for Colonel Roussov’s table. From the hostess’s bright smile, she understood she was expected. “This way please, Dr. Lornier. I have a table for two waiting for you.”

In spite of the dimness prevailing in the area, Roussov must have spotted her as soon as she stepped in the dining room. Wearing a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and red tie, he was the epitome of elegance. He came toward her, a beaming smile on his face.

Extending both hands, he took hers and squeezed them. “My dear Cecile, what a pleasure to see you. You look lovely. I’m glad you recovered from your indisposition.”

He helped her into a chair. “This is a friendly—I should almost call it a family—

dinner.”

Both his eyes and lips stretched into a thin line. “You will forgive a father for indulging in useless reminiscences. You remind me so much of my daughter, blonde, slim and almost the same age.”

His withering gaze clearly suggested, And like her, I guess you’re stupidly attracted to the wrong man.

Cecile bit her tongue and maintained a blank expression. Although his comparison shook her to the core, she promised herself to control her emotions and facial expressions, no matter what he said or did.

She twisted a little in her seat and scanned the elegant crowd patronizing the restaurant, the men in dark suits or decorated uniforms, the women with heavy makeup, low-cut dresses and fashionable attire. She had donned a high neck ruffled shirt and a long black velvet skirt quite appropriate for the place. Her hair was pulled back to her nape in the same severe bun that she wore during her work day. She was here on a business meeting and wanted to look the part.

So far, nothing in the loud and cheerful crowd generated fear or anxiety. A cozy place with lively music and joyful couples swirling on the dance floor. At her table, the deceivingly gracious banter of the old man hovering over her with a paternal smile…

And yet a cold shiver slithered down her spine and chilled her bones. Cecile waited.

For what, she didn’t know. She slid her hand into the purse on her lap and switched on the tape recorder.

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Roussov ordered the vodka and toasted their new friendship. He drank and chuckled and joked. She hardly tasted the liquor. He asked about her work, her company, the lab in Boston. Innocent questions and easy conversation intended—she assumed—to help her relax and drop her guard. He assisted her with the menu and suggested the excellent salad buffet. She never ate salad in foreign countries and declined.

He kept the conversation light all through dinner. A dull headache and throbbing pain pounded her skull. She wanted to get the meal over with and run out.

“Would you like a dessert?”

“No, thank you.”

Across the table, Roussov leaned forward. “When would you like to receive the equipment?” The question resonated like a gong.

She sent him a wary look and snapped to attention. “The sooner the better.

Tomorrow? Do you have the permit with you?”

His eyes narrowed. He inched forward. His voice dropped to a murmur. Cecile fumbled in her purse to turn up the volume of the recorder and extracted a tissue. She blew her nose. He waited a second while she crumbled the tissue in her hand.

Roussov shook his head. “In spite of what you think, Cecile, I want to help you retrieve your precious equipment. I’ll sign the permit and personally oversee the transfer of the boxes to the lab.”

She arched her eyebrows and stared at him. This was too good to be true.

“We can work together. Trust me, I only want to help you…and help myself.”

She swallowed hard, afraid to guess.

Roussov rubbed his hands, then tented his fingers. “Dr. Lornier, in this world we pay for everything.” The ominous sentence rang loud in her ears. “My help will support your contract, enhance your position and facilitate your life.” Roussov gave her a broad grin. “It is worth a lot.”

Cecile abstained from asking how much.

He seemed annoyed by her silence. “Well, you do want your instruments and the permit?” he barked not realizing he’d raised his voice.

“Yes, Colonel Roussov. I do want the equipment for the Belchem Lab. And I need the permit. Am I going to get it?” She matched his tone so he would continue to speak loudly.

“For a hundred thousand dollars,” he spat out. “I’ll have the equipment delivered to the lab.” He leaned back in the chair and focused a sharp gaze on her.

Cecile gasped. She had expected something rotten but not a blatant request for money and such a big sum to boot. She bit her lip. “You’re asking me for a bribe?”

“No. It is payment for services. I heard you paid the Belchem chemists who collected samples for Fedorin.”

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“You’re always well informed.”

“It’s my job, my dear.”

“I requested official permission to pay them. Since you know everything, you probably heard their stipends didn’t exceed fifty dollars a person.”

“They are technicians, collecting dirt. This is the Director of National Security offering his services.” He sneered in disdain. She shivered and prayed the recorder was functioning well.

“It’s a big sum, Colonel Roussov. Do you imagine me asking permission for this type of money?”

Roussov seemed to relax a bit. “My dear Cecile, I respect you as a strong independent person. Don’t disappoint me. I don’t expect you to ask approval. You’re the powerful Program Manager with complete control over your contract budget.”

She wanted him to detail his motives. Her eyebrows flickered a little. “What if someone hears about this…bribery?”

“The deal is strictly between you and me. You will not confide in anyone. And you can be sure I will not advertise it. I may even retire to a warmer climate.”

She pursed her lips without answering.

“What’s your answer?” he asked impatiently.

“No.” Cecile shook her head. “I will not pay to get the permit.”

“Not just the permit.” He frowned as if he couldn’t believe her refusal. “I will retrieve the whole shipment from the airport and transfer it to the lab.”

“Not a penny, not a ruble.” Her hands trembling, she mentally blessed her little recorder.

“You may regret it, Dr. Lornier,” he said with an icy tone. She stiffened to cope with the hate that tried to pulverize her.

The lights suddenly brightened the room. Roussov clapped his hands. She noticed that applause filled the air. The singer, a gorgeous redhead, microphone in hand, glided toward them, halted and gave her a dazzling smile. Her thoughts still muddled by his outrageous demand, Cecile unconsciously smiled back at the singer.

Roussov’s arm suddenly surrounded her shoulders. His head leaned against hers.

A flash blinded her. She blinked, clutched her purse shut and lunged back, jerking out of his embrace. “What’s going on?” she almost shouted.

He shrugged but she glimpsed the satisfied glint in his eyes. “I asked her to sing for you,” Roussov said.

“But this flash? Someone took a picture. Why?”

“Why not? The entertainer has announced she will sing for you. The local photographer must have taken a picture for the restaurant.”

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She didn’t believe him. He had set her up. She was sure of that. He knew the guy was taking the picture. He had put his arms around her and assumed an intimate posture. He’d plotted the whole scene. First the request for money and now the picture.

Why? What was he planning to do with the picture?

“I asked her to sing for you, Cecile. It was my daughter’s favorite song, an old

Russian melody. The title is ‘For your blue eyes’. You do favor blue eyes, don’t you?”

Cecile hated him with all her heart. The snake was trying to hurt her innermost feelings, to make her jealous of his dead daughter, Sergei‘s wife. She could have bet a month’s salary the sleazy jerk was enjoying himself and playing with her emotions.

Whatever his intentions were, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She clapped her hands when the song ended and pushed her chair to stand up.

His eyes focused on her. “If you’ve finished your dinner, we can leave. I am traveling tomorrow and need to do my packing.”

She insisted on paying for her meal and he let her. At the door, he bowed and grabbed her hand. “Think about my offer,” he murmured in her ear. “It can benefit both of us. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I’m sure we will see each other again,” he said with a frosty tone.

Cecile found the van waiting for her in the next block. She slid in the backseat next to John and Paul, a burning sensation gnawing at her stomach. The stress had exacerbated her ulcer. They looked at her anxiously. “He didn’t give me the permit.”

She summarized the evening without mentioning the bribe issue. It was too grave to divulge in front of Tania. “No permit. Hmm. He tricked you.” John raked his frizzy hair then barked. “I’ll call Roussov. I’ll tell him what I think of him. He can’t make fun of a US envoy.”

“Forget it. Roussov specified he was leaving town for some time.”

All through her friends’ display of emotions, Cecile remained calm. “It wasn’t like him to give me the permit, after withholding it for a few days, just because I’d asked for it.”

Somehow, she was not surprised. She was expecting a dirty blow from him but it seemed less deadly than she’d anticipated. The permit, or lack of, she could deal with, if only Roussov stayed away from Sergei. She was also concerned about his request for a bribe but wouldn’t talk about it now.

Tania dropped them in front of the hotel. Cecile tugged at John’s sleeve. “I need to talk to you.”

They sat next to each other on the old sofa in the lobby. John shook his head. “He’s a jerk, all right. But you didn’t have to worry so much. You even had a song dedicated to you.”

“Oh John, how could you be so blind? What about the picture?”

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He just waved his hand. “I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. So what if he put his arms around you for a picture? I often do that with a pretty woman.

It’s a compliment. Come on, Cecile. Loosen up a bit.”

Cecile didn’t bother pulling him out of his blithe naïveté. She had been quite credulous in accepting Roussov’s invitation and she wondered what harm would come out of it. If Sergei ever heard of the dinner and picture, she knew for a fact he’d resent her for dealing with his enemy.

“John, there’s more. I couldn’t talk in front of the others. Roussov offered to sign the permit and transport the whole shipment to the lab.”

The Contract Director visibly stiffened. “And what was his price?”

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

His brows furrowed. “And you said no without hesitation?”

“Of course, what a question. But I led him into a discussion. We have it all recorded here.” Cecile patted her purse. “I need to hear the tape. What are we going to do with it? Confront, Roussov?”

“Absolutely not. Attacking the Director of National Security is way too complicated and dangerous. He’s not the only corrupt man in the government. Cecile, we don’t need to attract problems to our delegation. What if he was setting a trap for you? It’s often done, you know. Do us a big favor. Keep your tape tucked in a safe place and keep your mouth shut about this whole episode.”

John was right. What if Roussov was setting a trap for her? He could well take the money and accuse her of trying to bribe him.

Sergei had warned her that his former father-in-law would not hesitate to hurt her if he ever thought she was linked to Sergei. Roussov had hinted often enough about her possible relationship with his former son-in-law.

Just before leaving the restaurant, Roussov had dropped his amiable mask and recovered his chilly manner. It seemed he had achieved his goal whatever it was.

A pulse throbbed at her temples, announcing a migraine headache that would keep her awake, lonely and depressed, examining anxious thoughts and terrifying conjectures. God, she couldn’t stand to go to her room yet.

She could have been in Sergei’s arms, right now.

On a sudden impulse, she spun toward John. “Are you going to sleep right away? I

feel like going to the hotel casino for a drink and some gambling? Care to join me?”

With a beaming smile, he clapped her shoulder. “Now you’re talking like a normal gal. Of course, I’ll join you. We need to unwind. We’ll deal with our problems tomorrow.”

Cecile played the slot machines and blackjack while sipping a cold refreshing beer.

She concentrated on the games and tried to block any thoughts of Sergei, his awful father-in-law, the contract and her miserable, unhappy life. She bet high and won big.

John sat beside her and encouraged her with buoyant enthusiasm. Her luck kept

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To Love a Hero escalating and the rubles accumulated in front of her. By three in the morning, holding a big bag of money, she hooked her arm in John’s and they staggered to the escalator.

“What’re you…going t’do with this fo-fortune?” he stuttered, his tongue heavy.

“I’ll distribute it to the poor old ladies sitting on the sidewalk covered with snow at the entrance of the bazaar. I saw them trying to sell boiled eggs or a few bags of spices, freezing and drinking vodka to warm up.”

“You’re a good woman, Cecile.”

“No, I’m a stupid one. Today I acted like a stupid one.” She stomped her foot on the floor and pursed her lips. She felt dizzy from lack of sleep, alcohol and heartache.

“I don’t agree. Tonight for the first time you acted like one of the boys, Cecile.

That’s progress. Maybe one day you’ll finally act like a pretty woman should.”

“I did, John, I did. And that’s my problem,” she wailed.

“What do you mean?”

They had reached the door of her room. In spite of the fog inhibiting her mental faculties, she realized she’d said too much but John had drunk enough to forget most of their talk by tomorrow.

“Good night, John.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.

“If only you could act like that every night.” He returned her kiss and she giggled.

In her room she started sobbing.

* * * * *

Cecile met her group for breakfast and discussion. The restaurant had become a comfortable meeting room. Paul Miller, the last one to arrive peered at Cecile through a deep scowl. “What’s wrong with you, boss? You look like a ghost.”

John scoffed. “Lack of sleep. Cecile and I gambled and drank until the wee hours.

She cleaned up the casino.”

Jeffrey and Paul opened huge eyes and looked at each other.

The lab manager hitched his chin toward her. “Are you talking about this lady?”

“Our boss? Gambling and drinking?” Paul exclaimed, his eyes rounding.

Their expressions were so comical that in spite of the headache hammering against her skull, Cecile couldn’t suppress a smile. “So, once in a lifetime isn’t a crime. And

John, as usual you talk too much.”

Jeffrey nodded, “Yeah and in your case, Cecile, it’s about time for you to loosen up, if you ask me.” John didn’t bother to answer while Paul studied her with a level look.

She was sure he would rehash the subject later on, in a private conversation.

As he did yesterday, Nicolai joined them and ordered a cup of coffee. “Did you get the permit?” he asked going straight to his point of interest.

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“No permit, my friend. He wouldn’t give it to Cecile,” Paul explained without a smile.

Such a controlled fury radiated from the colonel. He banged both fists on the table.

They looked at him not daring to talk.

“Cecile, you risked upsetting Sergei for nothing.” Nicolai pushed his chair with a screech. “I am going to see Fedorin. As Major General, he can refer to the Minister of

Defense and arrange to have the instruments released.”

Cecile slapped the table. “No, you won’t, not without my approval. I’m the

Program Manager of this project.”

Jeffrey gasped. “What’s the matter, Cecile? We need the equipment to refurbish the lab. If we can’t get it, let the general do it.”

“I will not throw Sergei into a useless confrontation with the man who hates him.

We’re here to install a lab, not to stir up more trouble.”

John raised a hand. “I have a solution. I’ll talk to our ambassador. He’ll intercede with the Minister of Environment.”

“I won’t accept any interference by high-ranking personalities. The last thing I need is for those male chauvinists to claim that poor Dr. Lornier has not been able to handle the project.”

She narrowed her eyes on each one, daring them to contradict her.

During the last two days she had concocted a backup plan to use in the eventuality

Roussov would not give her the damned permit. Now was the time to execute it. She let her friends vent their angry feelings and turned toward Nicolai. “I’m going to the airport.”

“What?” they said in chorus.

The colonel shrugged with disgust. “Without the permit, you can’t do a thing. They won’t give you the equipment.”

“I’m not setting a foot in this airport, except to go back home,” John protested. “It’s just a waste of time.”

“You don’t have to come. Stay here and relax. I’ll ask Tania to keep you company or take you shopping.” She switched her gaze to her assistants and said with a tone that didn’t brook discussion. “Paul and Jeffrey, you’re coming with me and you too, Nicolai.”

She pushed out her chair and waved goodbye to John. The three others followed as she walked out of the restaurant. “I’ll see you in ten minutes on the sidewalk. Dress in warm clothes. Nicolai, I hope you came with your own car?” He nodded and she sighed with relief.

Wearing heavy coats and hats, they waited for her outside the hotel. “Are you going to explain your plan? The colonel is not used to obeying your directives blindly as we do,” Paul said with some impatience.

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Her jaws tightened with tension and she answered in a dry voice. “I will but not right now.” She spun toward Nicolai. “If you don’t mind we’ll go to your apartment now. Do me a favor. Change into civilian clothes, preferably something casual. Then take us to a faraway garage or a mechanic where we can rent a big truck without attracting attention.”

They looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Her lips curled with bitterness. “I need you to trust me. My plan is daring but may succeed if we proceed with speed and care.”

The colonel opened the doors of his car and slid in the driver’s seat. They settled in and he drove in silence to his building. They waited for him while he went inside.

When he reappeared in a chapka and a long wool coat over faded navy pants, he resembled the thousands of citizens strolling around him. He drove his old Volvo out of the city and into the countryside. They crossed a little village and stopped in front of a shabby barn. An old guy with long beard and ragged clothes came toward them.

Nicolai talked to him.

“This man owns two old trucks. He doesn’t know me but my father used his vehicles to move things in his business. We can rent them for the day. We need to pay right away.”

Cecile handed him a bag of rubles without uttering a word. The colonel gave his instructions. “I’ll drive one and Jeffrey the other. Paul, can you follow in my car? Cecile will ride with you. Now are you going to tell me your plan?”

“Not yet. Let’s go.”

Cecile sighed with relief when they arrived at the airport without problems and parked out of sight behind the customs building.

The colonel led them to the entrance. Cecile grasped his hand and squeezed it nervously. “Nicolai, go and check if there’s a different clerk. The one who was here last time said he would be out ’til the end of the week. Just check. Don’t talk to him. Oh

God, I hope he hasn’t changed his mind.”

Nicolai came back. “New guy,” he said. She exhaled with relief. “What next?”

Cecile swallowed hard. “You and I are going to his office. Jeffrey and Paul, wait for us here.” She gave her chapka to Paul and wrapped a scarf around her head to look like one of the humble women she’d seen in the streets of Minsk.

“You’ll tell him you received some agricultural machines for your farm and you need to withdraw them.”

Their heads jerked and their gasps echoed.

“Are you crazy?”

“You can’t do that.”

“They’ll arrest us.”

“It’s our only chance to get the equipment. Roussov has put no restriction on this type of machines. The clerk has never heard of a gas chromatograph in his life. A big

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Paul broke into a large grin. “If it works, I’ll publish the story.”

“Shush. Wait for us and say the prayer your mother taught you when you were small.” Cecile swallowed hard. “Nicolai, I won’t open my mouth. Tell him I’m your wife. I’ll just hang on your arm.”

He pulled her against him. “I will play the loving husband. But if you tell Sergei, he will kill me.”

A chuckle escaped her while she fidgeted.

They entered the office. Nicolai talked to the man and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissed her cheek and addressed her in Russian. “Don’t go too far, Nicolai,” she mumbled between her teeth, smiled back and cuddled against him.

The clerk burst into boisterous laughter and clapped Nicolai’s shoulder, then handed the colonel an application form. Cecile held her breath. Nicolai filled it out while joking and pressing her against him.

She bit her tongue to stop herself from yelling, hurry up

. He returned the paper to the clerk who glanced at it, stamped it and handed it back to him. The man stood and shook Nicolai’s hand and said something to her. She smiled and lowered her head coyly against the colonel’s coat.

As they left the office, she could hear her heart drumming inside her chest. Nicolai ordered. “Quickly, to the trucks.”

They strode to the parking place, scrambled inside the trucks and drove to the back of the customs warehouse. As they walked to the door, Nicolai explained, “I’ll give you the details later. I have the stamped voucher. I’ll present it to the guardian of the warehouse. You guys will help us transfer the boxes. Cecile, I will use more of your money to tip the man.” He took a step, reconsidered and turned to their two companions. “If you see me flirting with this lady, keep your mouth shut.”

Paul and Jeffrey looked at Cecile as if they’d swallowed a frog.

The colonel knocked on the warehouse door. A heavy guy opened. The smell of alcohol wafted in the freezing air. Cecile knew better than to judge. The poor guy was trying to keep warm in the unheated hangar.

Nicolai talked to him and sighed. “The forklift is broken. He said it would take a week to repair it if we give him the money. Can the three of us carry the boxes?”

Jeffrey shook his head. “Some of them are extremely heavy. We’ll be here all night.”

“This is a big airport. I can’t believe they have only one forklift. There must be one hidden somewhere. Give him the price of a forklift and tell him to go buy a new one.

We’ll wait for him here,” Paul suggested.

Nicolai passed on a bunch of rubles to the guardian. The man’s eyes glittered. His big smile revealed two missing teeth. He went back inside the hangar and came back with a forklift. The colonel translated that the man just remembered a missing forklift.

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“There is this new one that belongs to an officer. They could buy it and he would replace it.”

“Tell him we’ll borrow it. He can keep it and keep all the money,” Cecile decided.

They started loading the first truck. The guardian offered his help and even his vodka if they didn’t mind drinking from the same bottle with him. Nicolai declined.

Paul operated the forklift and the others reorganized the boxes. After two hours, they had filled the first truck to the brim and locked it. At that point, Cecile insisted

Nicolai give the guardian a personal tip. By three o’clock, the two trucks left the airport with the colonel’s car in tow.

“We’re going directly to the Belchem Lab. We need to reach it before rush hour and unload.”

The Belchem personnel received them with a hero’s welcome. Dr. Kadelov ran to the trucks. “Fantastic, you finally got Colonel Roussov’s signature,” he croaked out of breath. “Move the truck under the huge side windows. The lab doors are too narrow for these big boxes. I will mobilize all our men to unload the stuff through the windows directly into the lab.”

Cecile let him handle the unloading and tugged at the colonel. “Can you call Sergei?

Ask him if he wants to come here. Tell him we have a surprise for him.”

General Fedorin arrived fifteen minutes later, just in time to see the first box, raised by twenty pairs of arms, crossing through the window into the lab.

“It’s fantastic, incredible. But how did you manage this?” His large smile disappeared replaced by a dubious look. “Cecile, I heard that Roussov refused to sign the permit. What made him reconsider?”

The steel edge of his tone tore at her heart. How could she tell him about her dinner with his father-in-law, the man he abhorred? It was a mistake, a dreadful one that hadn’t generated positive results. If she could only erase it.

She inhaled deeply and made an effort to answer his question. “Roussov never signed a permit.”

She related their morning adventure with a cheerfulness she hadn’t felt in the last few days. Nicolai filled in the gaps. “I told the clerk that we just married a month ago and that my wife’s dowry was a piece of land. So I ordered some agricultural machinery to plant in the modern way. These machines were a gift for my bride. She has promised to help me work the soil.” He paused and winked at Cecile. “The man said my wife was really pretty and shy. I should give her many children.”

Sergei clasped his shoulder. “Your dedication to my cause is greatly appreciated. I

hope you haven’t had to go too far to prove your affection to your new bride

.” The ironic smile mitigated the light threat. Nicolai laughed without taking offense.

“If you breathe a word to my wife about me kissing Cecile. I will slit your heart, my

Generalle

.”

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“I will extract the whole truth from Cecile the next time we are together.” The look

Sergei sent her made her toes curl. His leg brushed against her thigh and heat seeped though her bones. She closed her eyes. She would eagerly wait for that next time.

Nicolai cleared his voice. “Hmm. Everyone is busy with the boxes but we are still standing in the crummy Belchem Lab.”

She blushed and stepped away. Sergei chuckled and stepped closer. “Nicolai, how much longer do they need to finish the unloading?”

The colonel strolled to the huge open window and glanced outside. “They’ll be here

’til late in the night. They are doing this with their bare hands.”

Sergei lowered his voice to a whisper. “Cecile, I want to take you away for a day.”

She smiled with unfettered joy. Her mission was almost accomplished. Nothing could please her more at the moment.

Nicolai joined them and Sergei said, “Can I ask you to drop Cecile at my flat?”

The colonel nodded. “Go first. We’ll follow in an hour.”

“Before I leave I will congratulate Kadelov on his new equipment. Cecile, you had an ingenious idea and you, Nicolai, did excellent work. I can’t thank you enough, my friends.”

They exited the building and met Tania and John at the door. “Jeffrey called me. We came at full speed. You got the stuff? How on earth did you do it?” John seemed out of breath.

Sergei motioned to Cecile. “The brilliant Program Manager you chose for this contract accomplished a miracle. And the others helped.”

She turned toward him and beamed. His recognition of her professional capabilities pleased her more than all the honors and awards she’d received during her Harvard days and her ten-year career.

John’s brows arched with astonishment. “I want the details.”

“Later, my friend. I’m sure Jeffrey and Paul will be happy to brief you.” Sergei ushered them toward the back of the building where some twenty Belarussian men tightened their muscles and raised the huge boxes toward the window.

Alexander Kadelov, a large smile on his face, came to shake hands with them. “I

was sure that Colonel Roussov would sign the permit as soon as Cecile explained to him the importance of this equipment.” No one bothered to contradict him.

Sergei’s smile disappeared. He fixed a questioning gaze on Cecile. Her heart skipped a beat. She gave him a weak smile and shrugged hoping that he wouldn’t quiz her for more details. She realized that each one of her companions was missing a piece of the story.

“Well, the equipment is here,” she cheerfully said and clapped her hands. “Each one did his share and everyone is happy.”

And will live happily ever after with the blasted equipment, I hope.

Why ruin the mood with unnecessary explanation?

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Ignoring the general’s quirked brow, she tugged at Jeffrey’s sleeve. “It’s time to call

Boston and ask our chemists to jump on the first plane. I need them here to start the installation as soon as possible. And Paul, please call Rob. Tell him we need him here.

I’ll call him when I have time.”

Paul laughed. “For once, your orders came too late. Jeffrey already called our chemists. They are leaving tomorrow. I just hope they don’t face a snowstorm in Boston and end up in Moscow as we did. I’ll talk to Rob tonight.”

“Don’t worry,” Nicolai said to reassure them. “I will keep track of their flight until they land here. And I’ll be at the airport to receive them.”

Cecile yawned. “I’m tired. I am going back to the hotel. Do me a favor, guys, don’t knock on my door tomorrow. I may sleep the whole day to make up for my past sleepless nights. I leave the Belchem Lab and its new instruments in your competent hands. See you the day after tomorrow.” She waved to them and left with Sergei and

Nicolai on her heels.

She heard the general say something in Russian followed by, “

Spacibo bolchoi

, thank you so much.

Dasvidania

, goodbye.”

Before they reached the Jeep, Cecile paused. “Sergei, explain to me how to go from the hotel to your place by metro.” Nicolai tried to protest but she interrupted him. “I’d like to learn to go around on my own.”

Sergei faced her, assessing her request. “Always independent.” She raised a hand to protest but he insisted. “Soon it will be dark. Nicolai will bring you tonight but I

promise I will explain to you how to take the metro. I will see you later.”

He gave the colonel the key to his flat. Bowing over her hand, he pressed a warm kiss on it and turned it to rub his lips on her open palm. Heat infused her cheeks and a tingling sensation rippled through her body. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered.

The general jumped in the back of the military Jeep and his driver took off. Cecile slid in the front seat of the colonel’s Volvo. “Nicolai, since you’re not wearing your impressive uniform, can we stop at the bazaar for a few minutes?”

He glanced at her, a question in his eyes.

“Yesterday I gambled and won a good chunk of money. I pledged to distribute it to these old women sitting out in that chilly weather. Now is a good time.”

“You are a strong woman with a good heart, Cecile. I understand why Sergei loves you. Maybe you can keep part of the money to distribute in the villages. People are very poor there.”

Cecile thanked him for the suggestion. Ten women crouched on the icy sidewalk received her donation and showered her with thanks and blessings. Entering the bazaar, she moved between different aisles for food shopping, cakes and flowers.

In the car she handed one of the cakes to Nicolai. “Take this for your family. Thank you for all your help.”

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* * * * *

The Jeep dropped Sergei at the Ministry of Defense. He went to his office and called the Minister of Defense to update him on the delivery of the long-awaited equipment to the Belchem Lab. Upon hearing the compliments of his boss, he protested and specified all credit should go to Dr. Lornier who multiplied her efforts to serve this important cause. When he hung up the phone, a smile hovered on his lips. The minister assured him he would never forget her dedication to their country and promised to personally send her a thank you note.

Sergei entered the antechamber he used as his bedroom and changed into civilian clothes.

It would be wonderful to go home and find her waiting for him. A domestic scene played in his mind, Cecile fixing the dinner then relaxing on the sofa while listening to

Russian music. They’d eat, dance and make love. No vodka. He remembered the first time she came to his flat. She had fallen asleep in his arms just when he wanted her wide-awake.

They’d toast later, much later…

She would spend the night in his arms and the next day he would take her by train to the lake where he used to vacation with his parents. A whole day spent together like two lovers without any worries. They both needed a break from their responsibilities and hectic life. And they needed to be together.

His secretary knocked, admitted himself and handed him an envelope. “General, this telegram was delivered two hours ago.”

Sergei opened it and read the few words. His hand, holding the piece of paper, dropped to his side. He blankly stared at the wall.

“I hope it’s not bad news, my General.”

“It is. My mother is dying.”

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Chapter Eleven

The delicious smell of home-cooked food, more precisely the smell of roasted meat, with garlic and onions, lingered in the corridor of his building’s seventh floor. Sergei halted before inserting the key in the lock. He wriggled his nose and sniffed. No, he wasn’t mistaken. He opened the door and blinked, unable to believe his eyes.

A dream come true.

Just like in his fantasy, Cecilya lounged on the sofa while listening to Russian music. The table was set and even the bottle of vodka was open. She bolted up and flung her arms around his neck. Even better than his fantasy.

Without uttering a word, he took her in his arms and lowered his head, crushing his lips against hers. His hand slid along her back to press her against his hardness. She moaned and he knew she wanted him as much as he craved her. With escalating passion, he ravished her mouth. His tongue probed and played with hers and she responded with fervor.

His mother’s message popped into his mind.

He pulled his mouth away and stared into the beautiful eyes dazed with desire. He hated himself for what he was about to say, what he was about to do. “Cecilya, I love you for this welcome, for fulfilling every detail of my fantasy. But a telegram came from the village. My mother is dying.”

“Sergei, you have to go right away. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t see her alive.” She raised a hand and caressed his cheek, love sparkling in her eyes. “But I

want to come with you.”

He blinked, finding it difficult to digest her words. “This is not a fun trip. I may not have time for you there.”

“I know. I want to be with you. Unless it compromises your public image?”

“Nobody cares about my public image in this remote area.” He frowned, still not sure he understood. She was pleading with him to take her to visit his dying mother.

How could he tell her the village and the little house where his mother lay ill was a far cry from the well-tended American farms pictured on TV?

“The house is cold and small and dark. And unlike…” He hesitated, hating to denigrate his birthplace.

“Stop it, Sergei. I want to be with you. That’s what counts for me. And I’ll meet your mother. I’m sure she must be a wonderful woman to have raised such a son.” She smiled, a lovely sweet smile that melted his apprehension.

He captured her lips one more time, pouring his love and appreciation into his kiss.

Cecile disentangled herself. “Help me store this food in the fridge.”

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“No, we will put it in boxes and eat it in the train. Believe me, the first meal you have cooked for me will be rightfully honored,” he said while covering the pot containing the roast.

In less than five minutes, they had the dinner packed into plastic containers.

“What about the flowers? Can I take them to your mom?”

A strange emotion filled him as he recalled that his mother had not received flowers in years. He’d bought her food, medicine and clothes and gave her money. He suppressed a bitter smile. His mamouchka would have scolded him if he ever wasted precious rubles on something so trivial. The only flowers he’d ever bought in his life were the ones he gave Cecilya, when he tried to match—in a measly way—the luxury she must have been used to. Without comment, Sergei indulged her by wrapping the vase and its contents.

He helped her with her coat and wore his. “I may have to stay longer than a day.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you.”

He adjusted the chapka on her hair and caressed her cheek. “You have an answer to every problem. Are you always so determined when you want something?”

“Always.” She chuckled and shrugged. “It’s part of my upbringing. Let’s go.”

Hooking her arm through his, she let him guide her through the dark streets. Her gaze followed the reflection of the few ghostly shadows of cars and passersby on the glittering icy sidewalk.

“You are very quiet, Cecilya.”

“I’m concentrating on my steps. It’s quite slippery on this sidewalk. Do they never shovel the snow in Minsk?”

He laughed as if she just said a stupid joke. “By hand? There is too much of it on the ground. We just wait. It will melt in the spring.”

They turned around the corner and reached the main street. Sergei quickened his steps. She hung more heavily on his arm until they entered a revolving door leading to the train station. He lowered his chapka deep over his eyes and wrapped the scarf around his mouth.

He halted at the ticket window and looked at her with hesitation. “Cecile, when I

travel for personal reasons I buy an economy class ticket.”

“How long is the trip?” she asked, wondering if they could still save some part of their original plans.

“Eight hours. We will arrive at dawn. Of course, a separate compartment would be more private.”

Cecile understood his dilemma. As usual, money was a difficult issue. “It was my idea to come with you. Please, let me handle the tickets.” She grabbed his arm before his hand reached his pocket. “Anyway I give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar or in this case to Belarus. Last night, I won a lot of money at the casino of the hotel.”

“You played at the casino?” His eyes almost popped out of his head.

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“I’ll tell you all about it later.” She stuffed a packet of rubles in his hand.

He quirked an eyebrow. “It looks like you have an awful lot of things to tell me, my dear.”

Cecile grimaced determined to avoid tricky subjects that would sour the moment.

In spite of his understandable worry about his mother, Sergei was in a relatively easygoing mood and she wanted to keep it that way.

He shoved the tickets into his pocket and recaptured her hand. Cecile spun her head right and left, intrigued by the crowd running in different directions. He led her toward the correct platform where a train with a succession of red and silver cars was already stationed.

Sergei helped her up into the train and they strolled along the corridor to the right compartment. He deposited his bag on the small table adjoining the large window and slid the door closed behind them. “Your mobile palace for the next few hours, madam.”

Cecile peered through the glass. A train passed parallel to theirs. She lowered the shade and flopped down on one of the benches clapping her hands. “A haven of privacy.” She beamed, delighted.

He smiled at her excitement. “Let’s eat.”

Sergei opened the bag, extracted two plates, forks and knives, a bottle of wine and two glasses and uncovered the pot. She prepared their plates while he poured the wine.

They heard the bell announcing their departure. The train chugged and then gained speed.

She raised her glass to toast. Her arm stopped in midair. This was not a fun adventure but a visit to his dying mother. She lowered her glass and waited, not wanting to spoil the moment and not knowing what to say.

His gaze met hers and he understood. “I will take care of my mother when we arrive. The next eight hours belong to us alone. I drink to you, my love.” He clinked his glass against hers.

Sergei tasted the meat and immediately took another mouthful. “Delicious,” he said while chewing with undisguised hunger. “I never thought a businesswoman could cook so well. Hmm, the beans taste so good.” He cleared his plate. “Can I have some more?” he asked with boyish embarrassment.

“Of course,” she said, pleased to see him eating with such gusto.

He emptied the pot and licked his lips. “It’s been a long time since I ate such a tasty meal. Why were you hiding your culinary talents? A woman who cooks so well is a husband’s dream.”

She laughed. “Don’t raise your hopes too high. I rarely have time to cook.” Cutting the cake she gave him a big portion and took a small one for herself. “I’d better watch the calories.”

“Now, a glass of wine to help the digestion.” He poured the rest of the wine and raised his glass. “To the pretty cook. My mother used to say, ‘the fastest way to a man’s

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“I wish I could keep your heart, Sergei.” The smile disappeared from her lips as she remembered the many problems facing them.

“Why the sad expression, Cecilya? You were smiling so happily a few seconds ago.

What’s going on in your pretty head?”

Cecile put the pot and plates into the bag and threw the empty bottle in the wastebasket without answering. Sergei wiped his mouth and sat beside her. His arm encircled her shoulders. “You haven’t answered my questions.”

She leaned her head against his arm and closed her eyes. “I love you, Sergei.”

He brought her against his chest and claimed her lips in a tender kiss that clearly said, “I love you too.”

She forgot her worries when his tongue invaded her mouth and thrust deep inside.

He smoothed her hair and caressed her nape. Then pulled his head away and smiled.

“It’s hot in this compartment. You don’t need to be buried under a mountain of clothing. Allow me.”

He slid her heavy sweater away and removed the turtleneck. “You know, my love.

The only time I undressed you, you were asleep. I fought to control my desire. Tonight, I will enjoy removing your clothes one by one while making love to you.”

She felt herself blushing like a young bride, already excited by his words and panting for his caress and his body.

“I’ll share the undressing with you.” She reached for his sweater and he swiftly removed it. She unbuttoned his shirt and brushed her palm against his skin. He held his breath as her fingers tangled in the soft curls at his chest and circled his nipples. She watched him holding himself still, reveling in her ministrations. His eyes closed, his teeth bit into his lower lip, his breathing came in ragged gasps.

She bent, trailing her lips along his chest and licked his nipple while her hand reached down to unzip his pants. He sighed and caught her wrist. “No, my love, this is my part.”

Damn it, the man insisted on always being in control. She remembered their first lovemaking and then smiled. She didn’t mind him in control and she didn’t mind a repeat performance but he was too slow, so exquisitely slow she was afraid she’d soon beg him to take her and end the sweet torture.

He removed her pants, undershirt and bra and undressed her while staring at her.

“You smell of fresh flowers,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. Uncovering the couchette

, he pushed her gently down on the sheet then reached for her waist and dragged down her bikini briefs. Sergei stood towering above her, studying every inch of her body, warming her with the intensity of his gaze.

Kneeling in front of her, he massaged her feet and ankles and worked his way up her legs and thighs with inexorable slowness. Cecile lowered her eyelids and moaned.

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Unable to withstand the scorching heat of his hands and his eyes, she lay down and he stretched halfway on top of her. His hand roamed over her breasts, fondling and tantalizing them with blazing kisses.

She wriggled under him. His cool skin couldn’t smother the fire that spread from her breasts down to the core of her sensitivity. He seemed to understand her needs and responded with his own.

His mouth captured hers and his hand reached, deep between her legs, cradling her mound. His fingers delved into her wet warmth, gentle and persistent. She groaned in his mouth. Fueled by her escalating desire, her hands spread on his back and raked the hard muscles.

She was ready for him. Snatching her mouth away, she squirmed and spread her legs to send him a message—a prayer or an order, she didn’t care which as long as he entered her and extinguished the fire that consumed her. “Sergei, my darling,” she purred as she slithered her hand down the length of his body and wrapped it around his shaft. Obviously he was more than ready for her.

“Cecilya, my love,” he said, his voice gruff. He focused a knowing look at her, heaved a sigh and slid his fingers deeper inside her. She lifted her hips to give him better access and quivered. Dipping over her, he buried his mouth between her achingly sensitive breasts, lavished one than the other with moist kisses and suckled her nipples.

She tightened her grip around him and stroked his penis with increasing urgency until he groaned and pulled her fingers away. She almost cursed with frustration and want. He protected himself and she sighed with relief as he moved on top of her. He plunged into her, thrusting deeper and deeper, moving with the cadence of the train.

Closing her eyes, she wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her muscles to feel him better.

“Look at me, daragaya. Loubloum yavas

. My darling I love you.  His gaze dark with

, ”

passion captured hers.

“I love you.” She inhaled his clean masculine scent and her breath stilled in her throat.

He covered her mouth with a sizzling kiss and increased the tempo of his thrusts, piling sensation over sensation. Ripples of pleasure washed over her and she cried in ecstasy. He gathered her closer, fusing her to his taut body. She felt him tremble and convulse as thousands of stars glittered in her brain and her world shattered in his arms.

She came back to earth, languidly, hearing his heart pulsing against her chest and the train motion slowing down. Sergei kissed her with a tenderness and gentleness that melted her heart. “I love you, my Cecilya,” he whispered against her hair.

Her lips glued to his skin, she inhaled the scent of his aftershave. She squeezed him against her wanting to imprint every one of his muscles on her soft flesh.

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The train stopped. Sergei edged away and peered through the shade of the window. “We better get dressed. Soon, the inspector will knock to check the tickets.”

He kissed her on the nose. “You don’t need the heavy sweater now. Just slip on the blouse and pants. We still have five hours. As soon as the train leaves, we will take a nap.” He pulled his clothes on while she did the same.

Someone knocked. Sergei slid the door slightly open and handed the two tickets to be checked. She heard

Spacibo bolchoi and the door slid back in place. He bolted it and came to sit next to her.

She chuckled. “You hardly opened the door. All he could see was your hand.”

“I prefer not to be recognized with you in my compartment.” A momentary shadow wiped the smile from his face. “You have refused to be my wife but you don’t mind being my mistress.”

She gasped. “Sergei, you make it sound…cheap. I love you and I can’t stay away from you. But a marriage between us would raise too much controversy—you know that better than I do.”

He cradled her face in his hands. “Cecilya, I love you and I want to marry you. You are beautiful and generous, intelligent, strong and honest. I trust you more than I ever trusted anyone. I know you would embrace my cause and never betray me.” He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his cheek against hers. “I worry about you. My former father-in-law is trying to destroy me. He would not hesitate to hurt you too. I am glad you avoided him and did not obtain the customs permit for the equipment through him.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t told him the whole truth. How could she explain her dinner with Roussov? Sergei would never understand. Something seemed to claw at her chest. She swallowed hard.

Sergei kissed her forehead, then inched away and scowled. “What’s wrong? You look pale and anxious.”

She stiffened in his arms, not knowing what to say. “I…It’s about Roussov.”

“What about him?” He eyed her intently, his hands still holding her face. “Did he talk to you?”

“He came to see me at the hotel before I left for Boston.”

“What does he want from you? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

The questions hammered her, each one hitting a full blow. For the first time since she met him, the authoritative commanding edge he used with his officers wiped away the gallant tone he reserved for her.

“He said it was a simple courtesy visit.”

Sergei dropped his hands and sneered. “And you believed him?”

“Of course not.”

“What else did he say? Did he ask you questions about us?”

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“No, he didn’t ask any question about you or about us. Although I had the feeling that he suspects something. He insisted I would soon need him to get the permit. That night he invited me for dinner and I refused.”

It was the strict truth about that specific night. The tenseness of his features relaxed.

He caressed her hair gently. “I am sorry, my love. I have been rude with my questions.

The thought of this man coming close to you repulses me so much. I am glad you turned him down.”

He smiled and brushed her lips back and forth with a finger. “I appreciate this pretty mouth telling me the complete truth. I value honesty above all else. You should have told me the story right away.”

“Sergei, hearing about Roussov upsets you so much. I don’t want to add to your burden.”

His eyes widened. “I am a soldier by training and a general now and you are trying to protect me? I swear this is the sweetest thing I ever heard. Please, humor my manly capability and let me be the protector.” He kissed her soundly on the lips.

She hadn’t told him the rest of her story, the dinner with Roussov, the picture taken, his icy farewell. If she did now, it would spoil their relationship. She would wait until after the lab was inaugurated and the contract finished. By then she would have to return to Boston anyway.

Damn Roussov, he had almost spoiled their train ride and the beautiful interlude in

Sergei’s arms. “I’m going to take a nap,” she said without looking at him.

“Good idea. We will have a long day tomorrow. Come lie down in my arms.”

He yanked off his shirt and pants and stretched on the couchette

. She followed his example and snuggled against him under the cover, enjoying the strong arms enfolding her and the hard frame pressing against her. His breath fanned away the image of their nemesis. She reached to kiss his lips. He chuckled. “Are you sure you want to sleep?”

“Yes, yes. I was saying good night.”

His happy laughter filled the compartment. “Why don’t we wish each other a thorough goodnight?” His hands roamed all over her body and his tongue probed her mouth. “I am wide-awake and I love you so much.”

She was wide-awake and enjoying every second of their lovemaking. He invaded her intimate softness. They shuddered together, collapsed and clung to each other.

* * * * *

Sergei was propelled right out of his slumber by the chugging of the train and its complete stop. He eased out of Cecile’s arms and donned his clothes. He bent to kiss her. “Cecilya, we’ve arrived. I’ll help you.”

In less than two minutes, she was dressed and wrapped up in her coat, scarf and chapka

. Sergei grabbed the big bag containing the dirty pot and dishes and handed her the vase still enveloped in its plastic wrap. Holding her hand, he strolled along the

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dawn darkness toward the exit door.

As he thought about his mother, living here alone for so many years, a strong emotion tightened and clogged his throat. He hadn’t been back for two years. It had been easier for her to come to visit and stay with the Nicouvitch family. Three months ago, she started complaining about pain in the abdomen. But she’d told him not to worry. She would be fine soon.

He paused on the sidewalk to reorient himself. Without loosening his grip on

Cecile’s hand, he scurried along the narrow road covered with muddy ice.

Lost in their thoughts, they walked in silence until they reached the edge of the village. “It’s the third house on the left. Nothing fancy as you can see.” His voice sounded strangely guttural to his own ears.

He knocked on the door of the small house and threw a lopsided glance at Cecile, wondering about her reaction. Would she be shocked or repulsed by the humble place?

She had refused to marry him. Maybe now she would stop seeing him.

Sergei hunched his big frame ready to enter through the door. “As you see, it is small and poor and…”

“Sergei, this is your mother’s house. I didn’t come to judge or be impressed. I came to meet her. I don’t care about the house.” Cecile leveled a serious look at him, showing him she resented being cast as a snob.

A middle-aged woman opened the door. Her eyes rounded in recognition. She threw her arms around Sergei’s neck and kissed him on both cheeks while talking volubly.

“Cecile, this is Olga, the neighbor’s daughter and a distant relative. We used to play together when we were small. She helps take care of my mother. She doesn’t speak

English. My mother is resting in her room. Can you wait here, please?” He showed her to a chair.

“Don’t worry about me. Please, give her the flowers.” She handed him the vase and settled in the chair.

He tiptoed into the room. The wooden floor creaked as he approached the big bed where his mother’s pale face rested on upraised pillows. She opened her sunken eyes.

He bent over her to kiss the hollow cheek. “Mamoushka, it’s me. I came as soon as I

received your message.”

She raised a trembling hand and touched his face “Sergei, you are here,” she said, her voice a whimpering cry.

“What happened, Mama, you were so healthy three months ago?” He gently rubbed her hand and kissed it.

“The doctor said it is a cancer of the liver. I didn’t want to worry you. I was still on my feet a few days ago…but now…” She panted and closed her eyes. “I had to see you before I go.”

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He sobered up. Cancer was taking away all the people he loved.

“Don’t be upset, Sergei. My time has come. I am ready. If I could only see you happily married, with a good woman to take care of you.”

“Wait a minute, Mamoushka. I will bring her.”

He stepped out of the room and went to crouch in front of Cecile’s chair. “Come.

My mother and I speak in Russian but she knows English. Speak slowly. And please, I

beg you, do not contradict her. These are probably her last moments. I want her to go in peace.”

Cecile nodded. He tugged at her hand and walked her to his mother’s side.

“Mamoushka, this is Cecilya, the woman I love,” he said in English, uttering every word slowly. “We will be married soon. I want you to make an effort to live and attend our wedding.” He saw Cecile stiffen and he squeezed her hand.

His mother turned her face with effort and smiled. “Cecilya, I am happy to meet you. Sergei, put the light on. I want to see my new daughter.” He tightened his grip on

Cecile’s hand, then left her to switch on the light.

She threw him an odd look and bent over the old woman. “Mamoushka, I love your son. I’ll do everything in my power to make him happy.”

He came close to her and wrapped an arm around her back. Knowing his mother would enjoy seeing his display of affection, he turned Cecile’s face toward him and kissed her lips. As expected, his mother giggled weakly. “Oh Sergei, this is wonderful.”

“It is our tradition to kiss an older person’s hand,” he whispered in Cecile’s ear.

“Would you please make an extra effort?”

Her eyebrow arched in protest. “This is not an effort.”

She knelt next to the bed. Her lips touched the emaciated hand lying on the cover.

“Mamoushka, you have a wonderful son. I don’t think I’ll be able to live without him.”

She kissed his mother on both cheeks.

The note of sincerity in Cecile’s voice rang true. He came to kneel beside her. The old woman’s face wrinkled with pain. Her breathing sounded labored and ragged.

They hardly heard her feeble voice. “Sergei…Cecilya…happy…thank you.”

Her eyes closed. Sergei bent over her hand and kissed it one last time. It was limp.

He stood up and stared at the woman who’d raised him with love and taught him the meaning of honor and duty.

He looked at Cecile. Her eyes were wet with tears. He held her hand and led her out of the room. “Thank you. You gave her a last joy, Cecile. I will never forget it.” His old Mamoushka had met Cecile and blessed her as Sergei’s future wife and then died happy.

* * * * *

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For the past twenty-four hours, Cecile had put her daily routine on hold and acted as Sergei’s bride. It was a landmark in her life.

They buried Sergei’s mother the same day. A dozen people from the village attended. For them Sergei was only Natalia Fedorin’s boy, the good son from the city who came back with his bride to attend his mother’s last moments. At the cemetery, the villagers kissed them on both cheeks and went their on their way. Sergei lingered for another hour to settle a few things.

They took the overnight train and ordered dinner to be brought to their compartment. He sat next to her on the bench and peered into her eyes. “Cecile, why did you tell my mother you couldn’t live without me?”

He was a man of duty, an officer with honor. Cecile’s heart filled with love. She didn’t have the right to take him away from his mission but she couldn’t let him go.

Suddenly, her ambition and career shrank to minimal importance.

Choose, Cecile

. The straight boring path as Laboratory Director and Program

Manager, or the love of her hero and nights of passion in his arms?

You can’t have it all

.

She’d already tasted the dry glory, sterile honor and vain congratulations on a job well done.

I want to be loved. I want to love this hero.

She let him see deep into her soul where sweet and sour feelings mingled. “Because it’s the truth. I wouldn’t lie to a dying woman.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how do you plan to accomplish that, if I may ask?”

“I don’t know yet.” She sighed and tried to turn her head away. His palm cradled her cheek forcing her to face him. Her gaze captured by the deep blue eyes staring at her, she sighed. “I’m not opposed anymore to staying in Minsk. Just give me time to think about it. Tomorrow we will resume our normal routine. I want you to know, it will never be the same for me.”

A gleam of love glittered in his eyes. “Before we arrive, I would like you back in my arms where you belong.” He kissed her, a soft and light kiss that turned hard and demanding.

The train sped on, taking them back to their hectic lives and stressful duties.

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To Love a Hero

Chapter Twelve

John Gordon and Paul Miller each hidden behind a copy of

USA Today dropped their newspapers to welcome Cecile at the breakfast table.

The Contract Director, who never saw far beyond his nose, greeted her with his jovial smile. “Well, well, you look radiant, my dear. Your day of rest has done wonders for you. I’d never believe someone could sleep for twenty-four hours but apparently you did. And it helped.”

Paul focused his gaze on her eyes and smiled ironically. “I’m sure Cecile must have basked in beautiful dreams, forgetting the contract and her staff.” He readjusted his gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. “John is right. You’re glowing with…rest.”

As usual it was better to ignore Paul’s remarks before they became too specific.

Cecile changed the subject. “I read your e-mails. Our chemists have arrived safe and sound.”

“I expect them to join us for breakfast as soon as they wake up,” Paul assured her.

“Nicolai will come to pick us up. We can’t all fit in Tania’s van. Later on, she’ll pick up

Rob who’s arriving today.”

“Already? He didn’t waste any time.”

“He said he was eager to help.”

Cecile shrugged. She didn’t mind Rob’s help now since it was for a good cause. To enhance Sergei’s mission and the cleanup.

“Here’s the good colonel.” John extended a hand and gripped Nicolai’s.

“Dubra outra

, good morning, Cecile, gentlemen. Before I drive you to the lab I

would like to stop at the Ministry of Defense and check on my general. Nobody has seen him in the last twenty-four hours.” He surreptitiously glanced at Cecile.

“Amazing. Cecile also was out of reach yesterday.” John chose the wrong moment to add his two cents. “Could you believe she slept the whole day?”

Both Paul and Nicolai raised their eyebrows in unison and mumbled a dubious, “Oh.”

Cecile poured herself a cup of coffee and ignored them. The boisterous arrival of her chemists distracted Paul Miller and saved her from his inquisitive comments. The chemists, all talking at the same time, treated her to a full report of their previous night’s travel.

“The flight was smooth without delay.”

“Seeing Paul and Jeffrey at the airport has greatly relieved my nervous tension.”

“The colonel was so nice.”

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“Tania has promised to introduce me to one of her girlfriends.”

“I want to meet one of the handsome officers we saw in the video you showed us in

Boston.”

Cecile exhaled loudly. “I’m glad you had a good trip and are ready to work. I don’t know what Jeffrey told you but Minsk is not a dating agency. We’re here to work.”

Paul’s lips stretched into an ironic smile. “I hear you, boss.”

If only she could erase that smirk from his face. Nicolai glanced at his watch. “I can take three of you in my car. The others will go to the lab with Tania and Jeffrey.”

John pulled himself out of his chair. “I’m coming with you. I need to discuss with the general the inauguration of the lab.”

Paul jumped to his feet. “Now that we have a large group of chemists, I can assure you that things will proceed fast. Are you coming, Cecile?”

“Of course, if you’re going to discuss the inauguration, I’d better be present.” She turned toward the chemists. “We’ll join you later at Belchem.”

They waited in the military Jeep in front of the red brick building of the Ministry of

Defense. The colonel quickly emerged with his commanding officer. “

Dubra outra

, my friends. I am sorry I cannot invite you in. Foreigners are not allowed in a Ministry building. Let’s go to my office in the Hall of Officers. We need to discuss the inauguration of the lab.”

Sergei placed a chair next to his for Cecile and settled behind his desk across from the three men.

“Before we start our discussion, I will order some coffee and tea for all of us.” He spoke in Russian in the telephone, then folded his hands on the desk and said, “Yesterday was a very hard day for me.”

All the heads snapped to attention. “I received a message from my mother asking me to come. After a long trip, I arrived just in time to see her. She died yesterday morning and we buried her the same day. I came back by train in the evening.”

A collective gasp blurted in the office with the expected, “I’m sorry, General.” John and Paul sprang out of their chairs to grasp his hand and shake it.

Cecile covered the general’s hand with hers. “It’s good that you reached her in time.”

She noticed Paul watching her with puzzlement. With a suppressed smile, she figured he wasn’t so sure of his deductions anymore.

They heard a knock on the door. Nicolai opened it to admit a soldier carrying a big tray. He deposited it on the desk and saluted while talking in Russian. The colonel translated. “He said, ‘my General, in the name of all my comrades, I want to present our sincere condolences on the death of your mother.’”

The general saluted back. “

Spaciba bolchoi

.”

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To Love a Hero

After the soldier left, Sergei shifted his gaze from one to the other. “My mother died of cancer. Her death is one more reason for me to accelerate the refurbishment of the lab, its inauguration and the chemists’ training, before more obstacles arise.”

Nicolai nodded. “Roussov is out of the country for two weeks. He planned it this way. He wanted to leave us without a permit for as long as possible.”

John banged on the desk. “I am fed up with this man. America is giving aid to his country. Instead of thanking us, he’s insulting us.”

“That is because he wanted the contract to deliver food and agricultural machines instead of environmental chemical instruments. We had a long discussion on the subject at the Ministry when we wrote the contract requirements. The minister agreed with me but Roussov voted against it,” the general explained.

“Let’s give him a taste of his own treatment and inaugurate the lab in his absence,”

John suggested.

Cecile raised her hand. “We need two weeks to install the instruments. You can plan the inauguration in fourteen days from today, whether Roussov is back or not.

We’ll throw a reception at the Nievol Hotel in the evening.”

They all agreed on the date.

“How do you plan to organize the inauguration?” Cecile asked.

The colonel leaned on the desk. “Leave it up to me. I will invite the ministers of defense, environment and foreign affairs. My

Generalle

, it would be great if you can convince the Vice-President to come. The man admires you. He recommended you for the

Vallianskaya Medaal

.”

“I will try. But I know he hates attending big gatherings. Dr. Kadelov will probably include the scientists of the Academy of Sciences.”

“Our Ambassador should attend and give a speech. I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow,”

John said with importance.

Paul beamed. “This is the type of party I like with all the personalities. Don’t forget the booze.”

“No. No vodka in the lab, gentlemen. I’m trying to implement some safety procedures at Belchem.” Cecile scowled. She was not going to let them jeopardize her effort and spoil the reputation of the newly refurbished lab. “I absolutely refuse to allow a single drink at Belchem during the inauguration. Nicolai, I count on you to enforce my regulations.”

The colonel wriggled his nose. “No vodka at the inauguration?” He glanced at the general with a grimace.

“Cecile, when will you stop being a party pooper?” John protested very loudly.

“This is the conclusion and celebration of so much effort.”

“Kind of you to remember that. But I said no alcohol in the lab and I mean it.”

She narrowed her eyes, sending Sergei a nonverbal message that she was adamant about the subject. Much to her relief, Sergei raised his hands. “Gentlemen, when it

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Protests and interjections covered her sigh of relief. But she knew she would never hear the end of it. She owed them some sort of compensation, at least she owed Paul, Jeffrey and the chemists who had followed her to the other side of the world and would still be working hard to finish the project.

“I said no alcohol at the lab but…” They looked at her with anxiety and hope. “But at the reception I promise you an open bar.”

They showered her with thanks and compliments like young boys who just received a long expected treat from their severe and uncompromising mother. Even

Sergei seemed relieved.

Another thought hit Cecile. This inauguration would help the Major General in his mission by providing him with as much publicity as possible. “Nicolai, can we invite the press, newspaper, TV, radio?”

“Terrific idea, Cecile. My

Generalle

, this would enhance our cause in the public eyes.” One more time, the colonel sought approval from his commanding officer. Sergei agreed and, they discussed their plans for the following hour.

“Well, my friends, I guess this was a good session. Each one of us has a task for this inauguration,” the general concluded.

John raised a hand. “Cecile, you hold the purse strings. Are you allocating some funds for this affair?”

“Dear John, what would I do without you reminding me of my financial duties?”

While suppressing a sarcastic smile, she opened her purse to extract a big packet of money and handed it to the colonel. “I think this will cover the inauguration expenses.

I’ll handle the reception. There are rubles and dollars here. They got mixed up somehow. You’ll have to sort them.”

“As a Belarussian officer, I’m not allowed to own foreign currency.” Nicolai eyed the packet as if it contained a deadly snake.

“I’m sorry. Let me remove the dollars.” She diligently separated the green sheets from the red ones.

“It’s way too much, Cecile,” the general protested.

“Please, use them. It’s for the project. We want everything to be first-class.”

Sergei sighed. Cecile knew it bothered him to accept financial help even if it was coming from the contract allocation.

The general stood, dismissing them. “Thank you, my friends. I will see you later at the Belchem Lab.” He shook hands with the men and then grabbed her hand. “Cecile, please, stay. I have a few questions to ask you about the new proposal.”

She stared at him and Nicolai leveled a questioning look at him. “My

Generalle

…”

Sergei interrupted him. “You too Nicolai, go. We will join you at Belchem.”

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“But, Sergei…”

“I said go, Colonel.” The curt tone didn’t brook discussion. The others were already waiting outside.

She understood Nicolai’s concern. Sergei was becoming careless. “No, please, wait

Nicolai. Come back to pick me up. Sergei, I can’t be seen going out of your office alone or with you.”

He sighed and nodded. The colonel closed the door behind him.

She remained standing near his desk. “Nicolai is right. Your caution is lapsing.

Think about the danger to your public image if I’m seen leaving this place alone with you.”

“Being seen in public with a fabulous woman such as you should be an honor, Cecile. I will not hide our relationship anymore.”

She blinked and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him with all her strength. “Oh Sergei. I appreciate so much you saying that.” She lifted her head and stared into the startling blue eyes that had become her horizon. “What about your patriotism? Your mission?”

“Loving you does not contradict my patriotism. I believe I can still accomplish my mission and serve my country, with you at my side.” He arched his eyebrow in a familiar way that tugged at her heart. “That is, if you want to be at my side. We have not cleared up this point yet.”

Why was she hesitating so much? She was just torturing herself. Three weeks spent far from him had turned into pure hell. She was addicted to his lovemaking and his tender attention and didn’t give a hoot anymore about her vain independence as a well-

paid executive, or even about the freedom she’d taken for granted in the US.

“I love you so much, Sergei. But will your citizens and officers accept me?”

“I will make sure they respect you as much as they respect me.”

Cecile was still hanging against his broad chest but his arms dangled along his sides. She realized he was bracing himself against coercing her with more kisses or passion.

“You may lose your glorious future. Nicolai told me your officers consider you the future leader of the country.”

“It’s their dream not mine. I’m not interested in politics. I just want to accomplish my mission of cleaning the environmental pollution. You can help me do it better than anyone else.”

“I will do it, Sergei. I promise I will help you with the cleanup.”

He grabbed her shoulders. “I want more, Cecile. I want you. I want to love you every night. I want to sleep and wake up with you in my arms. I want to hold your hands in public, talk to you in public, kiss you in public. I am sick of this secrecy.”

“What about Roussov and his National Security?

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“The hell with them. I will fight them. So far, I have avoided a confrontation and tried the peaceful approach. It’s not working. I’m a soldier, an officer, Cecile. I’m used to fighting and winning. I will destroy them. I swear I would kill Roussov if he ever comes close to you.”

Her eyes widened with anxiety. Her dinner with Roussov lurked in the back of her conscience. Could they get over this hatred with their love unscathed?

Fear and doubt simmered in her stomach. She shuddered. He gently caressed her jaw. “Forget about this devil, my love. I will never let him hurt you. But you, my

Cecilya, would you let me love you and protect you?”

Cecile tiptoed to brush her lips against his. He claimed them in a deep demanding kiss then brusquely snatched his mouth away. “You always evade answering me.”

“I wasn’t evading. I was saying yes

.”

He cupped her cheeks. As his mouth hovered close to hers, she could feel his breath fanning and warming her face.

“Cecile, I can’t take it anymore. I know I ask a lot of you but I want a specific answer. Would you agree to leave Boston and come to stay here permanently with me?”

“Yes, Sergei. I also gave a lot of thought to our relationship. I want to be happy.”

She searched his eyes. They reflected the love she was offering. She smiled softly. “And

I can’t be happy without you. Freedom doesn’t mean much without you, anymore.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her against him. “Oh my love. I have more questions that need immediate answers. What about your career?”

“I will offer Dr. Kadelov my services to work in the Belchem Lab. His chemists could use my long-term directives, if they can cope with me watching over their shoulders on a daily basis,” she said with a fleeting smile.

Sergei beamed. “Kadelov and his Belchem Lab would certainly benefit from your continuous supervision. This would be a godsend for my environmental program.”

“What are your other questions?”

“Can you live in my small flat and put up with my limited resources?”

Her arms still hanging around his neck, she tilted her face. “I love your apartment.

You said that I could renovate it. I plan to do just that. As for your limited resources, I

can supplement them with my own income.”

“Kadelov will not be able to pay you.”

“I don’t need his meager salary. Sergei, listen to me. I’ve always been an independent woman and I’ll remain so. I have enough savings and investments. I’ll draw on them. You’ll have to accept that.”

He burst out laughing. “I knew you would be a difficult wife.”

“Wife? I haven’t heard a proper proposal, yet. Do you know how a man proposes to his sweetheart in America?”

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To Love a Hero

His eyes rounded and sparkled with merriment. He pointed to the carpet. “You want me on my knees?”

She disentangled herself and shrugged. “It’s up to you to do it right or not.”

He inhaled then exhaled deeply and glanced at her. Cecile backed up and crossed her arms, an amused smile curling her lips. His eyes scanned the room. He strode to the door and tested the lock. “I’m just taking extra precaution. This is a first-time for the

Major General of Belarus.”

With another deep breath, he lowered a knee to the floor and grasped her hand.

“My darling, I love you. I adore you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Cecile dropped beside him on the carpet and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes, Sergei. Yes, my General and my hero.”

He crushed her mouth under his and lowered her to the floor half-lying above her.

Her hands spread over his back rubbing and kneading the hard muscles through the khaki shirt of his uniform then moved to play with the smooth hair at his nape.

When his tongue tasted her mouth and his hand closed over her breast, her heart skipped a beat. She was his to keep for life. Her mind focused on the excitement that started in her mouth and crawled from her throat to her chest.

His hand relaxed and he rained little kisses on her cheeks and neck. “Cecilya, my sweet fiancée, I have one more question for you?”

“Hum?” she groaned unable to grasp what he was saying.

“When shall we get married? Tomorrow? This weekend?”

She jolted up, back into her business reality. “We will marry after the inauguration.

We need to concentrate on finishing the contract. I’ll ask you to keep our engagement secret until then.”

She saw him scowl and quickly added. “Please, Sergei, I want to enjoy our wedding and honeymoon without having to worry about the contract and the lab. Let’s fulfill our mission first. We’ll get married as soon as the inauguration is over.”

His scowl faded a little and she hastened to add, “Your citizens will celebrate with us and share our joy when they know you took care of them first.”

He regarded her with amusement. “Are you always going to expect me to give in to your whims?”

Cecile chuckled. “Not always but often. In my book, it’s one of the fringe benefits of marriage.”

He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. He opened it and showed her a ring, an amber stone set in gold. “You should wear it on the right hand according to the Russian tradition.”

Cecile gasped. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s my mother’s. Later on, I’ll get you your own.”

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“I don’t want another one. I’ll wear this one with love.”

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To Love a Hero

Chapter Thirteen

Cecile would never remember how the next ten days flew by. Her daily routine included a visit to the general’s office at the Hall of Officers followed by an inspection of the installation and training at the lab. Nicolai and Sergei made a point to accompany her to Belchem and assess the progress of the project. People got used to seeing her flanked by the two officers with or without the rest of the American delegation.

Rob had arrived a few days earlier. Paul Miller went with Tania to meet him at the airport. To Cecile’s relief, he was on his best behavior and abstained from blurting intolerable remarks. She’d introduced him to Sergei as the Director of Environmental cleanup and later confessed that Rob had once been her fiancé. “A detestable one. I

didn’t want to invite him.”

“But you did it for me. How can I ever thank you, my darling.” At night, in the privacy of his apartment, Sergei thoroughly proved his love and gratitude.

There were only three days left before the inauguration. Lounging in a chair in the hotel lobby, Cecile reviewed the latest spreadsheet about the preparations for the big day while waiting for her EAL staff and John to show up for a group dinner. Rob rarely came. To think of it, Tania too, had stopped joining them when not on chauffeuring duty.

A shadow covered the papers. She raised her head and gasped. Roussov loomed over her, a menacing expression in his eyes and a cruel smile on his lips. Damn the man.

Couldn’t he have waited another few days before coming back?

Bypassing any salutation, he slouched on the sofa too close to her. “You managed to get your damned equipment without a permit, Dr. Lornier.”

“The permit you promised but never signed.” She raised her chin haughtily.

“You refused to consider my offer. I see you rushed into the preparation of your big day. Am I invited?”

She clenched her fists into her pockets to prevent her hands from trembling and answered with an icy voice. “The Minister of Defense and all the high-ranking officers are invited.”

He sneered. “Good. I am happy to be included. I’ll expect the invitation card in my office.”

Cecile sighed. “We’ve already sent you one.”

“Am I supposed to prepare a speech?”

She shrugged, although she smelled trouble and threw him a look of disdain. “If you like, Colonel.”

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“And congratulate you for ingeniously tricking me? You are a smart woman, Cecile but not smart enough for the Director of National Security. This is not finished. I will see you at the celebration. Until then, enjoy your equipment.”

He leaped out of the sofa with amazing agility. Cecile remained seated, watching him disappear through the revolving door of the hotel. With Sergei’s love and the inauguration of the lab, she had reached the culmination of her dreams.

But Roussov would not allow her to relax. She fidgeted with her pen and blankly stared at her notepad. How, when and where would his next dirty trick manifest itself?

* * * * *

“Today is our D-day. Is everyone ready?” Cecile paced the length of the lobby for the tenth time and stopped to shoot more instructions. “Paul, don’t forget the video camera.”

“Here it is, boss.” He dangled it in front of her. “Can you please sit down?”

Rob, Jeffrey and the chemists had already left an hour ago. Nicolai arrived at 8 a.m.

sharp to pick them up. John extracted himself from his chair. “I’m glad you’re here, Colonel. Cecile is making us dizzy with her continuous pacing. She wanted to ride with

Tania and inspect the lab but Jeffrey wouldn’t hear about it. It’s his job after all.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that today is our big day, the culmination of so much effort.”

Oh

God, I hope that Roussov snake doesn’t jeopardize it.

They walked out to the icy sidewalk, which shimmered with the rays of bright sunshine. Paul squinted behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “See, the glorious sun is blessing our inauguration. I can’t understand your nervousness, boss. You’ve been to hundreds of events, meetings, audits, inspections, you name it… all as important as this one. I’ve never seen you this tense.”

Not wanting to impose her anxiety on her friends, Cecile hadn’t shared her last encounter with Roussov. Claiming to be very busy with the preparations, she’d even avoided Sergei in the last two days. They’d become so attuned to each other’s feelings, he would have immediately guessed that something was bothering her.

Nicolai fixed a speculative look on her. “I heard Roussov is back in town and plans to attend both the inauguration and the reception at the hotel.” He took her hand. “Is your nervousness related to him?” he asked kindly.

She nodded and bit her lip.

Paul patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. He can’t harm you. You’ll be well surrounded.”

“I’m not worried about myself. That devil is determined to hurt Sergei.” She tried to swallow the lump blocking her throat.

The three of them stared at her. Paul wrapped his arm around her back and tugged her away from the others. “Tell me, boss, are you falling for the general?”

She didn’t answer but she knew her whole attitude shouted that she loved Sergei.

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“Cecile, ever since you came back to Boston, I’ve noticed you’ve changed. This is wonderful. You couldn’t have chosen a better man to love. We all admire him.” He chuckled. “He’s a big boy, you know, a soldier and a general. He can take care of himself but as always my boss wants to protect everyone.”

Nicolai joined them. “Cecile, the feud between Sergei and his father-in-law has been going on forever. Don’t make it your battle.”

She fiddled with the collar of her coat and frowned. “Let’s go. We need to be at the lab before our guests arrive.” She had confided as much as she could.

* * * * *

As she entered the Belchem building, Cecile stopped in her tracks. A podium had been set against the wall. The crummy old floor positively sparkled. “Have they spent the night waxing the tiles?”

His baldness shining even more than the hardwood floor, Alexander Kadelov beamed with pride. “All night, Cecile, all night. Sweeping, washing, waxing. Wait until you see the labs.”

A festive air hovered over the Belchem Lab. For a change, the security lock was inactive and the lab doors ajar.

Sergei, in full uniform, his chest covered with military decorations, chatted with his colleagues. He turned toward her and herded his companions in her direction.

“Dr. Lornier, allow me to introduce our Minister of Defense, Mr. Gregory Anatov and our Minister of Environment, Mr. Fiodor Letovin.”

The Minister of Defense, a tall thin man with grayish hair bowed over her hand. “I

am pleased to meet you, Dr. Lornier. I have heard so much about you.”

His colleague from the environment grabbed her hand in a vigorous shake. “Dr.

Lornier, everyone at the Ministry and the Academy of Sciences is astounded by your accomplishments. Setting up the Belchem Lab in such a record time is unbelievable.”

Cecile acknowledged each one with a gracious word and praised the help of

General Fedorin and Colonel Nicouvitch.

John, followed by a guest, rounded the hall and strolled toward her. “Cecile, you’ve never met Bill Turner, our Ambassador?”

“Nice meeting you, Cecile. You’re becoming a legend here. I’m delighted by the smooth way our contract is proceeding.” The well-built Yankee shook her hand and surveyed the crowded hall. “Excellent idea, this inauguration. I have prepared a little speech. By the way, Gordon, I heard about the new proposal you sent to our

Department of Defense, the one for environmental cleanup. I’m giving it my full support. Let me know when you get a response from Washington.”

A reporter carrying a camera scurried by them. Bill Turner shook his head. “I wish you’d invited the American and European press. After all, this is a first for this type of project.”

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John interrupted him. “We did.

USA Today and

L’Européen are represented here.”

“Excellent, excellent. I’m glad I came. I see the Minister of Defense. Excuse me, Cecile, John.”

Cecile heard him through a daze. While turning toward the group where Sergei stood, her gaze collided with Roussov’s. Negotiating his way through the human sea, he strolled toward her. She felt the blood drain from her face. His eyes probed her with such intensity that an icy fear clutched at her chest. She looked away but her limbs felt too leaden to move.

Roussov was in front of her before she could recover. His fingers grasped her hand in a strong grip. “Good morning, my dear. Quite a festive event. Everyone is singing your praise.” Against her ear, his words dripped with scorn. “Are we honoring the

Belchem Lab or Dr. Lornier?”

“What do you want from me, Colonel Roussov? I don’t understand your hatred,”

she hissed between gritted teeth.

She tried to pull her hand away but he wouldn’t let go. He pressed closely against her. With the crowd surrounding them, she was stuck and unable to escape.

His sarcastic laughter paralyzed her. “Don’t be scared. I don’t want anything from you, my dear. In fact, you don’t interest me anymore.”

She raised her head high and saw Sergei coming toward them. Roussov snorted and brought her hand to his lips. He disappeared into the crowd before Sergei could reach them.

The scowl on Sergei’s face worried her even more than her encounter with Roussov.

“What did he want from you?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what he wants. He didn’t say much.”

“He talked to you, smiled at you and kissed your hand. And you look as pale as a ghost.”

“Sergei, for heaven’s sake, calm down. Whatever he said didn’t make sense. He asked me if people were celebrating the Belchem Lab or me.” She grabbed his hand trying to find comfort in his touch.

Over the loudspeaker, Dr. Kadelov announced that the inauguration would begin.

Ushered by Colonel Nicouvitch, the invited celebrities stepped onto the podium and the other guests stood in a circle, facing them.

“They’re starting.”

“You always evade my questions about Roussov but not anymore. Tonight, you will talk. You hear me, Cecile?”

“We’ll clear the air, I promise.”

Nicolai was throwing frantic glances in their direction, urging them to come forward. Cecile breathed deeply a couple of times to calm her wretched nerves and plastered a professional smile on her face.

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Acting as master of ceremonies, Nicolai introduced his illustrious guests. They delivered their speeches in order of rank, the Minister of Defense, followed by his colleague of the Environment, the US ambassador, Major General Fedorin and John

Gordon. The Belarussians spoke in Russian and the Americans answered in English, with several interpreters translating.

Nicolai announced, “And last but not least, the person who has accomplished the transformation of the Belchem Laboratory, Dr. Lornier, to whom we will be forever grateful.”

Struggling to get her jittery nerves under control, Cecile appreciated the two hours she’d dedicated to writing and memorizing her speech the previous night.

She thanked the ministers and the ambassador for honoring the ceremony. She acknowledged the help given by the Major General and his colonel, the efforts provided by Dr. Kadelov and his chemists and she recognized her managers and staff.

From the first row of the assembly, Roussov fixed her with a sardonic gaze. She cringed. With an impulsive bravado, she forced a smile and waved in an emphatic gesture toward him. “I should not forget to thank Colonel Roussov for signing the important permit needed for the equipment’s release.” She paused for a second and widened her smile. “Of course, it was signed in Russian and I didn’t understand it but it served its purpose.” Everyone laughed at the joke.

She got a standing ovation and was asked to cut the blue ribbon blocking the laboratory’s entrance. Just before the ceremony, Nicolai had hooked it on both ends of the door opening. She performed as graciously as possible, eager to get out of people’s scrutiny.

The guests lined up to enter the lab. Kadelov guided the personalities from bench to bench. Cecile watched from afar as the chemists, Americans and Belarussians, gave a demonstration under the watchful eyes of Paul Miller and Jeffrey.

Someone clasped her shoulder. She turned, expecting to see Sergei. It was Roussov again. She wrenched away and stared at him with anger and frustration. A grimace twisted his mouth. “I wanted to congratulate you on an excellent speech.” He clutched her arm, keeping her rooted in place, forcing her to listen. “You were right, the permit served its purpose and our dinner too. For me at least.”

“What do you mean?” She spat her question, striving not to wince at the hardly veiled threat.

Sergei was closing in on them.

“Here comes your protector.” Roussov scoffed and followed the line of onlookers toward the instruments.

“What did he say this time?” Sergei’s cherished voice was unrecognizable, bitter and icy.

“Sergei, please, I’ll explain everything tonight.” She sighed, wishing he could trust her. “He wanted to congratulate me on my speech.”

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“Really? How touching. What was the meaning of you including him in your acknowledgments? Cecile, do you owe him something?” She saw his jaw stiffen and his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“No, of course not. I was scorning him. I hate him as much as you do.”

At that moment a group of reporters surrounded them. “General, Dr. Lornier, can we have an interview?”

Cecile blinked, not sure if she should accept or not. The general acquiesced. “Dr.

Lornier will be happy to answer your questions.” The cameraman asked her to stand next to an instrument and the camera flashed several times.

“General, would you mind standing next to Dr. Lornier? That would make a nice picture with a caption like ‘An exceptional American-Belarussian working relationship’.”

Cecile gasped, about to protest but Fedorin slid next to her and half-smiled. “Go ahead.”

She remembered Kadelov had donned his good suit for such a unique opportunity.

“Wait, if you want an exceptional reportage, you should include the other protagonists of this project, Mr. Gordon and Dr. Kadelov.”

Someone went to fetch John and the Belchem director. Together they held a press conference, answering questions about the project and the future of the contract.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, it’s already two o’clock,” Cecile said, ending the interview. “Refreshments and appetizers are now served in the hall. Please, go and help yourselves.”

They removed their cameras and videos and shuffled away.

Cecile straightened her back. She was tired and emotionally drained. “I’m going to the hotel. I need a nap to recuperate before the reception.”

“And I need to talk to you,” Sergei said with total disregard to their entourage.

At that moment, Nicolai and Paul joined them. “My

Generalle

, the two ministers are leaving and want to thank you.”

The general grabbed her elbow. “Dr. Lornier, come with me, please. All thanks should be directed to you.”

He elbowed through the crowded laboratories and corridors and whisked her toward the hall, their little group following on their heels. “Although, I wonder if you haven’t received some secret help.”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

“They’re looking at us, Cecile. Come.”

At the front door, the two ministers showered her with compliments and assured her of their eternal gratitude. “If you ever need anything, Dr. Lornier, don’t hesitate to call,” the Minister of Defense said with an enthusiastic handshake.

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The Minister of Environment added his appreciation. “This project is the culmination of several years of dreaming and planning. You made it a reality.”

John couldn’t miss an opportunity to promote his next contract. “Minister Letovin, in a few days, I will be happy to present you with the second phase of our project, a contract for environmental cleanup.”

The Minister of Environment rubbed his hands. “Wonderful. Mr. Gordon, Dr.

Lornier, please stop by my office. I would love to learn more about this second phase.

Major

Generalle

, it seems that we will keep you continuously busy.”

Cecile glanced at Sergei. His eyebrows wrinkled in a frown when his boss slapped him on the back. “A new contract, interesting. Fedorin you have not updated me yet.

You know I like to be informed as soon as possible. Come ride with us to the ministry and give us some details.”

Sergei turned toward Cecile and bowed. “Dr. Lornier, duty calls. I will see you at the Hotel Nievol this evening. We will continue this celebration and discuss the next phase in more detail.”

Did he mean the next phase of their relationship? She didn’t like the spark of anger she detected in his gaze.

“General, thank you for your help. Thank you for everything,” she said, pleading with her eyes. If only he could stop tormenting her with his questions.

Cecile watched them leave, then went inside to fetch her coat. She needed to go back to her room and escape the poisoned web Roussov had woven around her. As she crossed the door of the Belchem Lab, she heard her name. Rob caught up with her on the front steps. “Cecile, do you want me to call Tania?”

Without turning her head, she shrugged. “No need. I’m taking a taxi.”

“Fine I’m coming with you.” He looped an arm around hers and pulled her toward the street. “I bet you never had time to explore the beautiful Liberty Park.” She shook her head and he continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Let’s stroll for a while. The weather is so exceptional for mid-December.”

She let him drag her away. “Already mid-December. We missed Thanksgiving.

Pretty soon it’ll be Christmas.”

“I hope you will allow the chemists to go home for the holidays. Paul and Jeffrey have families waiting for them.”

“Of course, they can leave as soon as they want. The most difficult part of the project is over. The chemists also can go. They’ll come back later to continue the training. I assume you’ll be going back too.”

Rob shook his head. A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m staying. I like Belarus a lot.

Actually I like a lovely Belarussian young woman. “

“Really?”

Rob and Tania

? Difficult to believe.

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“Tania is amazing. She’s gorgeous and she knows how to make a man feel special.

No woman has ever regarded me as a hero. Tania does.” He threw Cecile a sarcastic look. “She’s certainly not trying to compete with me.”

“Well, I’m so happy for you. No hard feelings on my part.” She had her general and wanted no other man in her life.

“I’m glad to hear it. How about you, Cecile? Will you stay here for Christmas or go back?”

Her mouth pursed. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t make a decision. She threw a sideways glance at her companion then stared at the frozen pond where children skated and played. Everything was so peaceful in this park while her mind roared with frightening speculations.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

“I was keeping a watch on you today. Paul pointed at Roussov. I saw that devil approach you twice. I couldn’t reach you through the crowd. Did he threaten you?” He squeezed her gloved hand. “Cecile, you know you can trust me.” God, Rob was showing the same consideration he had when they first got engaged. Tania had brought the best out of him.

“I know, Rob. Roussov was spitting his venom, words full of hatred, resentment, sarcasm…I don’t know if they were directed at me or at the general.”

She repeated the brief conversations.

“Nicolai said Roussov’s vendetta with the general has been going on forever.

Fedorin can take care of himself.”

She sighed. How could she explain it? She had this bad feeling gnawing at her.

Rob eyed her. “Apparently, the Major General may also take good care of you. I

was not the only one keeping watch today. Every time Roussov approached you, Fedorin was on his heels. I think he loves you, Cecile. Don’t lose him.”

“Oh Rob, he told me he loves me. He’s even asked me to marry him. First, I said no.

I couldn’t imagine myself living here. Later, I discovered I couldn’t live without him.

And I said yes.”

“So where’s the problem? And why do you look like a ghost?”

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “Relax and smile, Cecile, things will be fine. Can I be the first one to congratulate you?”

“Not yet. And keep my secret. Let’s go back to the hotel. I need to have a nap before the reception. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. If you can take a bit of advice, put on a lot of makeup tonight. You look too pale.”

* * * * *

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The restaurant of the Hotel Nievol had been transformed into a ballroom ablaze with the shimmering lights of the huge crystal chandeliers. Surrounded by the

American delegation, Cecile glided into the room partially filled with military men.

The Major General and his colonel came to greet them. Sergei’s eyes softened and gleamed with warm appreciation. He bent over her hand. “You look ravishing.”

She had combed her hair in a twist high above the back of her head. She’d also followed Rob’s advice and used green eyeliner on her eyelids and pink highlight on her cheeks.

She glanced at Sergei. Her heart twisted with anxiety. Had he suppressed his earlier anger?

Holding her elbow, he led her to the U-shaped table. “Come. We should be at the head of the table for the toasts.”

She felt embarrassed too feminine in the green shirt slightly scooped at the neck and the silk skirt that swished when she walked. When consulted, Tania had insisted that she should wear it. Too tired to argue, Cecile had agreed.

They paused in front of the middle table. John and the US ambassador followed them and soon the Ministers of Defense and Environment joined for the first toast.

Cecile had swallowed two aspirins before getting dressed and had decided to avoid alcohol tonight. People lined up along the two endless tables. Many of the guests came with their wives and Cecile began to feel less conspicuous among the male contingent.

Nicolai requested silence. The Minister of Defense delivered the first toast to Dr.

Lornier. Three hundred people lifted their glasses to honor her. She nodded, smiled brightly and brought the glass to her lips without drinking. Sergei noticed and started protesting. She stopped him by grabbing his hand under the table. “Please, don’t insist.

I’m not feeling well.”

“The vodka will help.”

“Not this time. Don’t worry, I’ll toast with everyone but I won’t drink.”

At that moment, Roussov entered the room. Her jaw dropped and her morale began to sag. Beside her, Sergei scowled and squeezed her hand with an iron grip. “If he just looks at you, I’ll punch his face. Don’t leave my side.”

How dare he order her like that? She didn’t like Sergei’s tone but was too tired to protest.

The toasts succeeded each other. Soon it was her turn to present one. She glanced at the dignitaries surrounding her as she reached for her glass. They looked at her, waiting. Whom was she going to hail?

She grabbed the microphone. “Gentlemen, I have been impressed by your zeal to improve your country. But no man can do anything without the help of…” She paused and saw the heads straining to listen and the eyebrows rising in question. “Without the help of a smart and loving woman. Gentlemen, a toast to your wives and the ladies of

Belarus.”

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Seconds of silence were followed by a thunder of applause as they downed their vodka.

“Absolutely true, my love.” Sergei gave her a sizzling look that melted her apprehension and made her knees wobble.

He filled a platter of hors d’oeuvres for her. She ate and began to relax and enjoy herself. Roussov hadn’t tried to approach her.

The evening proceeded amid fun and toasts. By ten o’clock the ministers, their wives and many guests came to thank her and took their leave. The assembly began to ebb.

One of the reporters who had interviewed her in the morning accosted them and handed Sergei a newspaper. “Colonel Roussov asked me to give Dr. Lornier a copy of the evening edition. There is a nice picture of her on the front page.”

She raised her head and saw Roussov waving a hand at her before disappearing out of the restaurant. Sergei opened the newspaper and sputtered a word she didn’t understand. The reporter gasped and strode away.

“What? What is it, Sergei?”

“This.” He spread the paper under her nose. She felt about to collapse.

Displayed on the front page, occupying half the sheet, was a picture of her and

Roussov. She was smiling, his arms surrounding her shoulders and his head close to hers.

She gasped, stared at Sergei and swallowed hard. She’d never seen such fury on his face. His eyes shot blazing daggers at her and his hands lowered to his side clenched in fists. “How could you, Cecilya? How could you?” he asked with a controlled rage.

The blood drained from her face. Her throat became dry. She wet her lips and raised a hand but he inched away.

“Sergei, listen to me, please. Roussov tricked me.”

Sergei threw a look at the picture and his mouth twisted. Cecile read anger, disgust and sadness in his eyes. He condemned her without listening. She gazed at him with love and desperation, then turned her back and left the restaurant without a word.

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Chapter Fourteen

So that was it. The dream was over.

Alone in her room, Cecile slumped into a chair and stared at the wall, her mind numb.

Her hero was gone, already receding into the clouds of her memory—or her imagination. Did she dream the fairy-tale story? Cinderella in love with her prince charming, her hero from far away?

If only she had listened to Nicolai, refused Roussov’s invitation and asked for

Sergei’s help to get the instruments. If only she had ignored her pride and her overinflated ego.

If only he had listened to her, given her the benefit of the doubt and accepted her explanation.

Collect yourself, Cecile

. In Boston or Minsk, men and lovers came and went…one more time. But this one was the hardest.

I love him and it hurts

.

Her heart thudded in her chest and tolled the end of her romance as she battled to control her anxiety. She felt a stabbing burning sensation in her stomach, the ulcer resurrected by stress and she clutched her midsection.

If only she could cry, shout, or vent her pain. But years of discipline and control had taught her to compose her face and suppress her emotions. She unhooked the tightly fitted waist of the skirt and took a deep breath. Right now, an antacid would help. She reached for her purse and rummaged through it.

Her fingers stumbled across an envelope. It was the money for the reception. She’d forgotten to pay the restaurant before rushing back to her room. She chewed on a couple of antacid tablets and pulled out the envelope. She would go and pay now.

Cecile hooked her skirt and walked to the door.

She heard the pounding as she reached it. “Who is it?” she asked without opening.

“It’s Sergei. Open the door, Cecile.”

With a sigh of relief, she opened, unable to hide the joy that flooded her being. He had come. She would explain and everything would be fine again.

Sergei stormed into her room, a somber expression on his face, the newspaper still clenched in his hand. He threw it on the bed. “How could you have dinner with him?”

he asked with a bellowing voice. “You are smiling, laughing in this damned picture.

You are sitting there in his arms, the arms of my mortal enemy. And it said the picture was taken two weeks ago. Can you explain all this?”

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She raised her arms toward his shoulders. He backed up. Anger flared in his eyes.

“No kissing or hugging. Don’t try to evade my questions. You are so good at that. The truth, just the truth. Even if it hurts.” His breath came in harsh, uneven gasps.

Cecile wouldn’t let his insulting words enrage her. One of them needed to remain calm and she’d already managed to drain her anger. She would be rational, logical and reasonably assertive.

“Sergei, you’re right. We need to talk, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I

swear to God, I will give it to you flat and plain. But before, at the risk of having you misjudge me one more time, I have to go and pay the restaurant. I was on my way out when you came.”

He snatched the envelope. “Stay here. I will do it for you and will be back in five minutes. Don’t move from here,” he ordered.

“Sergei, there’s about five thousand dollars here.”

“I will bring you the change. Don’t move from here,” he repeated.

He wrenched the door open, then slammed it behind him.

She immediately heard a loud exclamation in the hallway and rushed to open it again. Sergei stood facing the left of the long corridor, his face contorted with rage.

Cecile grasped his arm. “What happened?”

He didn’t need to answer. A flash hit them from the right side. Cecile gasped.

“What the hell?”

“Stay in your room. You hear me,” Sergei shouted. “I will get the damned photographer.”

He dashed into the corridor chasing the man who’d already vanished around the corner. Cecile reentered her room and locked it.

It must be Roussov

. One of his dirty tricks. A photographer ambushed on the left side of the corridor. Another stationed on the right side. Roussov was concocting something and this time, he was going at it full speed.

Cold and irrational fear gripped her heart. Although she guessed he was determined to destroy Sergei, she didn’t understand his intricate plan, or the inner workings of his twisted mind.

She thumped on the chair and waited, her gaze fixed on the door.

Cecile checked her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. He hadn’t returned. She started pacing the room then paused and changed into a comfortable warm sweat suit, wanting to be ready.

Ready for what? She didn’t know. She had a premonition that something dreadful was going to happen. Feeling claustrophobic in her room, she grabbed her purse and dashed to the elevator.

When it reached her floor, Paul stomped out of it with a grave expression. “Cecile, I

was coming to see you. Sergei asked me to make sure you’re all right.”

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“Sergei did? Thank God, he’s fine.” Relief washed over her in a tidal wave.

Paul scratched his chin and hesitated. “Yes…”

“But what? Paul, tell me.” She grabbed the collar of his jacket and shook him.

His eyes filled with pity.

Her stomach twisted in knots. “Tell me. I can take it.”

“There’s a big commotion going on in the lobby. The general got into a fight with two reporters. I wanted to help him but he yelled at me to go check on you.”

Cecile pushed him and stepped inside the elevator. “I’m running downstairs. You can come if you want.”

“Of course, I’m coming. There’s no way on Earth I’d leave you alone. But the general may not like you downstairs.”

“I know. He already told me to stay in my room. Since when do I accept orders? I’m used to giving them.”

When the door of the elevator opened in the lobby floor, Cecile gasped and forgot to step out. Her eyes widened at the sight of the carnage playing out in front of her. Five men circled around Sergei trying to hit him. He had abandoned his uniform jacket on the sofa. Like a devil with seven arms, he punched, kicked and wrestled.

Paul slid a hand to her elbow and guided her to a far corner from where they stood to watch the scene. Except for the registration clerk who observed the fight with cool interest, the place seemed deserted. Cecile tried to wriggle free out of Paul’s clasp. He wouldn’t let go.

John edged beside them. “Cecile, don’t do anything foolish,” he tersely admonished. “I told Rob and Paul not to interfere. We’re foreigners on an official mission here. If you get caught stirring trouble, you can be deported and cause international problems. So far, Fedorin seems to be managing quite well. No wonder the guy’s a general.”

Two men lay on the floor unconscious. One doubled up and staggered to a sofa.

Another fled, a hand covering his bloody eye.

“Great, four down, two to go.” Rob announced the score, his tone filled with admiration and respect.

Roussov materialized out of the blue near the registration desk. He lifted the telephone receiver and dialed a number.

“What the hell is he still doing here?” Paul stretched his neck to see better.

Feeling her bones icing with fear, Cecile squeaked. “Oh my God, he planned the whole thing. I knew it. My picture with him in the newspaper. The two reporters taking a picture of Sergei going out of my room. All of it is part of his strategy. He wanted to goad Sergei, to make him lose his temper.”

As if to corroborate her assumptions, two men appeared from the glass door of the lobby and flashed a picture at the battling opponents, just as one more fell. The last one glanced toward the door and ran away.

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Sergei turned and assessed the battlefield. Cecile tried to disentangle herself from

Paul’s restraining hand but John grabbed her other arm.

“Don’t move, Cecile. You hear me.”

She focused on the man she loved and noticed his swollen eye, torn shirt and the reddened area on his jaw. Sergei was in one piece and still standing on his feet. She breathed a sigh of relief. Roussov was finally vanquished.

Suddenly the place swarmed with men. They rounded on Sergei talking in Russian and exhibiting identity cards.

“The National Security guards probably,” John said.

Immobilized in her place by Paul and John, Cecile watched the scene as if it was a horror movie orchestrated by this monster Roussov. She turned a hateful look at him and then stood petrified. Roussov was searching Sergei’s jacket.

Cecile’s nails clawed into Paul’s palm. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Paul followed her gaze. Straightening up from the sofa and beaming with triumph, Roussov waved the envelope full of dollars. He shouted in Russian and two men came toward him. He opened the envelope, pulled out the green currency and brandished it as if it was the flag of a fallen warrior. One of his companions replaced the money in the envelope and wrapped it in a newspaper.

Beside her, Paul gasped. “What the hell are those dollars doing in the general’s jacket?”

John grumbled. “How could Sergei do such a stupid thing? A Belarussian officer is not allowed to carry foreign currency.”

Cecile suddenly bolted out of their hands and darted toward the Belarussian group.

Paul followed her and gripped her shoulders, halting her. “Are you crazy? You can hurt his cause more than help.”

“You don’t understand,” she cried. “It’s my fault. It’s my money. I gave it to him to pay the restaurant. That’s all. He was going to do it and come back in five minutes. Let me explain to them.”

John held her hand. “No. They won’t listen now. Let it go, Cecile. You will complicate things even more.”

She felt completely responsible for Sergei’s misfortune. It wasn’t fair he stood there, surrounded like a trapped animal.

“Someone must help him,” she shouted, unable to withstand the sight of the man she loved all alone, with that pack of wolves circling him, ready to attack.

Paul ran to the reception telephone and dialed a number. He came back within two minutes. “I called Nicolai. The colonel will be here as soon as possible.”

John raked nervous fingers through his frizzy hair. “This doesn’t bode well. I

wonder what they’re waiting for. I’d have thought they’d have taken him away by now.”

“Taken him where?” Cecile wailed.

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“I don’t know. But obviously they’re not going to let him go.”

Rob shrugged. “You don’t arrest the Major General of Belarus like a common thief.

They can lose their heads when he gets through with them.”

Those were the words Cecile wanted to hear. Sergei was not their next door neighbor. He stood high on a pedestal, respected and honored by the people of Belarus.

At the registration desk, Roussov barked orders into the telephone. The glass door opened one more time and a dozen policemen entered. They spread around the battered men that Sergei had incapacitated and began interrogating them.

Roussov slammed the receiver down and headed toward her group. He stopped two feet away from her and snarled, “You didn’t want to deal with me. You didn’t heed my warning and stay away from him. It was just as well. You helped bring him down.”

The man gave her the creeps. “You can’t harm him. He’s the Major General of

Belarus. The people adore him. They will skin you alive,” she screeched.

“I know this, my dear Cecile. That is why I planned everything carefully. First, I

will destroy his reputation. The staunch and loyal generalle fooling around with a foreigner, the same American Program Manager he’s working with. Wait until you see the caption under some new pictures. And then, the glorious generalle fighting and beating the citizens who were flirting with his girlfriend.”

“What?”

“With a little bit of imagination and a camera, one can create a big scenario. Do you think the citizens will continue to admire the fallen hero who betrayed their trust?

People forget quickly. Most of them love a good scandal.”

His foul vodka-tinged breath nauseated her. “You’re a monster. I don’t think the

Minister of Defense will let you have your way.”

He bowed with a sarcastic smile. “You think of everything. I always considered you an intelligent woman, except when you foolishly fell into the generalle’s arms. To answer your question, I was just on the phone with the Minister of Defense. Of course, at first, he didn’t want to believe me but I gave him enough details. He is dispatching a deputy to assess the situation.”

If it wasn’t for John and Paul still holding her hand and arm, she’d have scratched his eyes out. He must have felt the extent of her contempt. His eyebrows gathered into a menacing scowl. “You will learn to respect me,” he sputtered and left.

Rob wrapped an arm around her. “He’s insane. Don’t pay attention to his threats.

The general is a mighty man. It won’t be easy to topple him from his position.”

“I hope you’re right.” She had to believe in her general’s power, in order not to lose her sanity.

She heard John’s sigh of relief and Rob’s exclamation at the same time she saw

Nicolai, in full military uniform and decorations, entering though the glass door. He ignored them and hastened toward his commanding officer and the group surrounding him.

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“It looks like the colonel will stay away from us and play the full Belarussian card,”

John said, analyzing the situation. “The less we, foreigners, get involved right now, the better for Sergei.”

Cecile agreed with him in principle but her heart bled with pain. “What have I done to you, Sergei? It’s my fault.” Her eyes welled with tears at the extent of the damage she felt responsible for.

A comforting hand squeezed her shoulder. Rob gave her a tissue. “Cecile, this feud started long before you arrived in Minsk. You’re just a pawn in Roussov’s game. You couldn’t have guessed his motives.”

“These people have a different mentality and culture.” John expanded some more on the same subject. “For years, they lived in fear and kept their thoughts to themselves.

Don’t blame yourself, please.”

Paul took his turn. “Don’t worry, Cecile. Sergei will get out of it. Maybe with some ruffled feathers. But we know our general. He’s not a man to sit idly by and accept his fate. Look at the mess he made in this lobby. Five or six men out of commission because they dared to bother him with their cameras.”

She couldn’t suppress a smile at the image Paul described. Her friends’ soothing words calmed her. She needed all her wits to draw up a plan to help Sergei.

Two men strutted in through the glass door. One raised his voice in a tone of command. Immediate silence hovered over the lobby. Everyone’s head turned toward the newcomers.

“The deputies from the Ministry of Defense,” John assumed correctly.

The circle enlarged around Sergei. With the colonel beside him, her proud lover, calm and cool, raised a brow and stared at the two men.

Roussov and the man carrying the newspaper-wrapped envelope joined them.

More discussion took place. The newspaper was removed, the envelope opened and the dollars displayed and counted.

The whole audience, policemen, reporters, National Security guards and even

Nicolai, gasped collectively.

One of the deputies grabbed the general’s arm. She saw Sergei slowly turn his head toward the hand clinging to his arm. The man yanked his hand away, stepped back and barked an order.

Four men surrounded the Major General. He walked between them to the door, as straight and arrogant as when he headed the Hall of Officers meeting. Nicolai and

Roussov followed on his heels.

At the glass door, Sergei stopped and turned. He seemed to survey the hall, searching for something. His gaze paused on her and he brought his hand to his forehead in a military salute. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She waved her hand. He stared at her—with love or resentment, she couldn’t tell which—then gave her a half-

smile and bowed.

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Roussov chose that moment to shout, “Thank you, Dr. Lornier, for helping to catch this traitor.”

Cecile screamed. “No, it’s not true.” She propelled herself out of her friends’ hold to run toward her general. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Sergei’s fist connect with Roussov’s jaw.

The Director of National Security collapsed to the floor.

No one dared to interfere.

Sergei turned and exited the hotel framed by the guards and policemen.

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Chapter Fifteen

Cecile remained frozen in place, unable to move, talk, or feel. Dazed, she stared at the glass door that had swirled him out of the hotel. Sergei was gone, taken away. And it was her fault.

“Cecile…Cecile, come.”

The words hardly reached her. She didn’t know who had spoken. Her three friends surrounded her, enfolding her with sympathetic gazes. Without protest, Cecile let them lead her away from the lobby. They stopped in front of the elevator, waiting.

They saw two men helping Roussov to a chair. A wave of rage, the like of which she’d never known before, washed over her, befogged her mind and jolted her to the bitter reality. Hatred flooding her heart and mind, she stared at the man responsible for her torment and her lover’s disgrace and savagely swore. “I won’t leave Minsk until I

deal with him.”

“If he ever recovers from the general’s punch.” Rob studied the Director of National

Security with narrowed eyes. “He looks in pretty bad shape right now.”

The elevator door opened and they shuffled inside. John yawned. “It’s been a long night and we don’t know what tomorrow may bring. I’m going straight to bed.”

Cecile sighed. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Would you like to go to the bar?” Rob asked. “You don’t have to drink. Just order a cup of coffee. I’ll stay with you.”

Paul nodded. “I’m coming too. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep either.”

“Thank you, guys. I appreciate your offer. But I’d rather be on my own, in the privacy of my room.” She needed to be alone, to think about Sergei and cry.

* * * * *

In the morning, a hot shower did wonders for her spirit. She knew she had to help

Sergei. She was still the Program Manager with all the entitled privileges and she would use every single one to help Sergei.

She donned a business suit, pulled her hair in a tight knot at the nape and was back in her professional skin. Even though deep inside, pain gnawed at her heart.

When she entered the dining room of the hotel, John, immersed in his newspaper, raised his head to greet her. “Sleep well?” He flinched under the sharp look she threw him. “I mean, did you sleep at all?”

“Nope. What’s in the newspaper?” She was becoming leery of newspapers and reporters.

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“A report of yesterday’s inauguration. This is the Minsk gazette in English. My dear, you’re the heroine of the day. Listen to this, ‘Dr. Lornier’s generous dedication to our cause went beyond the call of duty…’ Hmm.”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “Only two lines about the American Contract

Director.” He folded the newspaper with an exaggerated sigh. “How can I compete with our pretty Program Manager?”

“For heaven’s sake, John, who cares about the inauguration’s report right now?

Anything about last night’s fight?” She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, her mind riveted on one subject.

“Nothing in the English version. Maybe they haven’t had time to print it yet. We’ll check the Russian newspapers and the evening release.”

Cecile tapped the table with her fingers. John eyed her and scowled. “Will you please, relax? One can get tired just looking at you.”

She was about to tell him to bug off when she noticed Nicolai entering the restaurant. He came straight toward their table and hugged her.

“I have to tell you. While leaving the lobby last night, Sergei specifically ordered me to protect you.”

She clapped a hand to her mouth and melted into tears. Dear Sergei, he thought of her, even when the guards were taking him away. If she ever needed proof he loved her, he unselfishly gave it last night.

John shook his head. “Please, Cecile. I can’t stand weeping females. You’re the PM

of my biggest contract.”

She sniffed and nodded. “You’re right, John. I promise you I won’t lose my control anymore.”

“Don’t feel bad. Cecile, it’s normal for a woman to cry when she suffers.” Nicolai took her hand. He stiffened as he looked at her fingers. “Sergei gave you his mother’s ring?” His eyes widened in disbelief as he rubbed the large amber stone.

“He asked me to marry him and I agreed to stay here.”

The colonel smiled, then sighed. “I hope this engagement will not interfere with his mission.”

John slammed the table. “Oh my God. When did this happen? What do you mean, stay here? I’m counting on you for more proposals and contracts, now that you’re a big shot in Belarus.”

Cecile shrugged and focused on Nicolai. “You haven’t told us yet. Where did they take Sergei?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere special. He’s in his office at the Ministry of Defense. You can’t lock up the Major

Generalle of Belarus without presidential permission.”

She noticed his assessing gaze. “What else? Shoot, I can take it.”

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“I was told that Roussov went to the Minister of Defense first thing this morning.

He wanted to show him the bruises he received from Sergei and give his account of the story as soon as possible.”

Nicolai studied the table for a while. Cecile didn’t dare interrupt his thoughts.

“I saw Sergei before coming here. He tried to meet with his boss, our Minister of

Defense but the minister refused to receive him. He shouted on the phone that Sergei

Fedorin has embarrassed the whole Ministry with his ill-tempered behavior.”

Cecile bit her lips. It was even worse than anticipated.

Nicolai continued to explain his view. “The minister can prevent the newspapers from publishing the new pictures. But then, there is the foreign currency found on

Sergei. Roussov is doing his best to make Sergei look guilty.”

John’s eyebrows gathered into a deep scowl. “This is terrible. Are they going to prosecute him?”

“They may. It’s up to our minister. Justice here is often twisted and at the mercy of the wolf who howls louder than the rest of the pack.”

Cecile banged the table with both hands. “Fine. The she-wolf who protects her loved ones is usually the most dangerous. And you haven’t heard her, yet,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

The colonel’s lips stretched into a sad smile. “It’s very generous of you to try to help my generalle

. But there is nothing you can do if the President gives his approval for a trial.”

“The president hasn’t heard both sides,” she claimed with stubborn determination.

Nicolai sniffled. “He’s the most chauvinistic man in Belarus and   will never deal he with a woman.”

“Here comes Paul. Let’s order coffee and breakfast and brainstorm.” She laid her notepad on the table.

Paul dragged his heavy bulk and slumped into the nearest chair. He patted her shoulder. “Doing better, boss?” He pointed to the pad. “You’re scheming and planning.

Good sign.”

“Drink your coffee, Paul. I need your full attention. You’ll sleep later, when we clear the general’s good name.”

Paul groaned then chuckled. “I can see you’re back to your old self. At your service, boss. I’m listening.”

“Nicolai, you said Roussov has the president’s ear through a friend of his. Who else can influence the president?” she asked while drawing a table on her sheet.

The colonel shrugged. “No one, unfortunately no one but the Vice-President.”

Cecile bit her lip. “He listens to the Vice-President? Maybe we can reach the VP.”

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But Nicolai shook his head, “Forget it, Cecile. The Vice-President is a very reclusive man who doesn’t like company and doesn’t receive anyone. One wonders how he managed to fall in love with such a bubbling beauty as his second wife.”

“Second wife? How old is she?” Paul asked with nonchalant curiosity.

“Early thirties. He was a widower with grown up children. She was his secretary.

He fell madly in love and married her two years ago.”

John threw in his two cents’ worth of philosophy. “It happens everywhere, my friend.”

“

Da, da, moy drouk but she is so different from him. An empty brain always shopping in our exclusive boutiques.”

Cecile snapped to attention. “I think Tania knows her. She’d mentioned to me she’s often driven ‘elegant women, foreign ones, rich ones and even the Vice-President’s wife’?”

“Pff, it doesn’t surprise me. The lady relies on chauffeured cars. Tania would be the ideal driver to visit boutiques.” Nicolai’s mouth stretched into an ironic grimace.

Cecile scribbled furiously on her notepad. “Great, we already have one connection to explore. I’ll talk to Tania and maybe I’ll go shopping with the Second Lady of

Belarus. Next. John, I’m going with you to the embassy today. We’ll pay a visit to our ambassador. We need him to pull some ropes here.”

“Good idea, Cecile. As soon as we finish breakfast.”

“Item three, Nicolai. I want you to talk to the Minister of Environment.”

The colonel shook his head. “Maybe you should ask Dr. Kadelov to visit him. He admires the minister and has often done work for him. But what do you need from the

Minister of Environment? I don’t follow your plan,” he admitted with a naïve expression.

“I’m trying to collect names of important people. Anyone who can intercede with the Vice-President and the Minister of Defense.”

“Cecile, this one will never receive you. He blames you for Sergei’s folly.”

Cecile swallowed hard. “I know Sergei acted crazy because of me. If someone can take me to the Minister of Defense, I’ll explain the whole situation, take part of the blame and throw the rest on Roussov.”

John shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Hey, don’t put too much blame on your pretty shoulders. You’re part of the American delegation. It’ll reflect on us.”

“Oh bug off, John.”

“Okay, okay. But be careful. We need to stay clean for the rest of the project and the next one.”

The colonel interjected. “Cecile, you’d better contact these people as soon as possible and ask them to intercede on behalf of Sergei. We need to stop the printing of the pictures in tonight’s press. The scandal would forever damage the public image of our Major

Generalle

.”

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Cecile glanced at her watch. “We have eight hours to reach our contacts and prevent the release of the pictures in tonight’s newspapers.”

Nicolai pushed his chair and stood to leave. “I will get more information about the proceedings at the Ministry of Defense.”

“Paul, call Rob at the lab. Tell him to send me Tania and Kadelov with the van, immediately

. John, finish your coffee. Come on, let’s move.”

The Contract Director held her back and leaned close to her ear. “Where’s your famous bribe tape?”

“It’s safe and sound and will come in handy.”

John scratched his head. He squinted at her from beneath shaggy eyebrows. “Hmm.

Cecile, keep it tucked away. I don’t want you besmirched by this scandal.”

At this point, she was beyond intimidation. She straightened up and raised a fist.

“The tape will be my trump card.” And the hell with anyone who stood in her way.

* * * * *

Sergei Fedorin propped his booted feet on the desk, his hand still holding the phone receiver he just dropped into its cradle. A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. The selfish oaf had refused to receive him and hear his side of the story. Typical of the Minister of

Defense who was always on the side of the highest-ranking lobbyist. Right now his ex-

father-in-law had the ear of a close friend of the President. If Sergei couldn’t talk to his boss, how could he defend himself against Roussov’s accusations?

He recognized Roussov’s careful plan. To think he’d made it easier for him with an envelope of dollars in his pocket. If his mind had been clear and not muddled by his anger about Cecile’s picture with Roussov, he’d never have started such a stupid fight.

All that mess, because he wanted to save Cecile a trip to the restaurant, because he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t evade his questions again.

She’d been so beautiful with her hair pulled up, revealing a slim alabaster neck.

Hovering so close to her, his lips had yearned to rain thousands of kisses on her slender throat and down to the scooped neckline of the blouse. More than once, he had itched to snatch her up in his arms and carry her off to her room. But he couldn’t. She was the hostess and the heroine of the party.

Cecilya, the secret fiancée he loved so much.

How he longed to throttle her pretty neck. She’d lied to him, consorting with his worst enemy, while melting in Sergei’s arms and ensnaring him with kisses. In that awful picture, she was practically sitting in Roussov’s lap, a big smile on her lips. He wasn’t jealous of Roussov. He realized the snake must have trapped her into meeting him but Sergei felt betrayed by her silence and her lies. He loosened his tie to breathe better.

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Sergei was sure the dinner had to do with the permit. Why did she deal with that son of a dourak

? Why didn’t she come to him and tell him she needed help to get the equipment? He could have used his authority to get the permit.

How could he ever trust or believe her again?

He loved her and it just might cost him his position. The press would publish the damned pictures and ruin his reputation. At any rate, she should go back to her country and he’d have to forget about her and the crazy dreams he had woven.

Wake up fool. A general was not supposed to daydream about love and happiness.

* * * * *

Both the US Ambassador and the Minister of Environment had promised to talk to the Vice-President. Cecile needed to knock on two more doors. In fact, it was Tania who rang the bell at the Vice-President’s house, a white villa in a secluded residential area, where a guard stood at attention, next to the front door.

The stunning figure, molded in an apricot suit with a fox boa looped around her neck, could graciously adorn the cover of a

Vogue magazine. She glided on three-inch heels over the icy sidewalk. Tania, her chauffeur’s cap tilted on her forehead, rushed to open the door. Her client contorted right and left to heave her tightly clad body onto the backseat.

Tania yanked open the front door. “Dr. Lornier,” she asked in a respectful tone.

“May I suggest you move to the backseat next to Natalia Galinova, our Second Lady.”

Cecile didn’t waste a second to sit in the back. The gorgeous redhead with almond-

shaped eyes smiled at her.

“Mrs. Galinova, I’m honored to meet you. I am Cecile Lornier.” Cecile used the polite jargon she had perfected since coming to Minsk.

“Oh

Sissyl

, yes, I have heard so much about you.

Moy drouk

, you know, my friends, they say you enhance the woman’s cause. You toasted the wives, yesterday. I wish I

could have been at the reception.”

“Oh yes. Too bad you couldn’t come. We had a wonderful reception,” Cecile said, while digging her nails in her hand.

Patience, Cecile

. She had to proceed slowly and surely. Rushing could jeopardize her mission to save Sergei. Natalia sighed and pouted.

“My husband does not like to go to any fun places. At home, I receive only political men. I try to make the boring dinners fun. I knew your reception would be fun… He would not let me go alone anywhere, except shopping with Tania or tea with my lady friends.” The baby-blue eyes twinkled. “Without Tania, I would be a prisoner in my beautiful house.”

Cecile listened carefully, nodded in understanding and smiled with empathy, afraid to make her request too soon and alienate the pretty doll. Time was of the essence for

Sergei but any wrong move or word could jeopardize her mission. Gathering her last

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The Second Lady examined her thoroughly, with the same quizzical glance Tania had used the first time she took her shopping and summarized her assessment. “You are quite pretty, Sissyl but hmm, excuse me, you do not dress very ladylike.”

She said something in Russian to Tania who answered in English. “

Da, da

, I told

Cecile the same thing. She needs more feminine clothing. Today, you will have an expert to help you, Cecile. Natalia used to model.”

“I appreciate your interest so much.” Cecile nodded.

I’ll accept your advice. I’ll buy whatever clothing you suggest. God, I’ll even spend a fortune on futility as long as you help

Sergei.

She had an hour, one single hour, to build a friendship with the Second Lady and then lay her cards on the table.

In the boutique, Cecile let Natalia order clothes for her and dutifully tried them. She bought her new mentor’s choice and paid without bargaining, thus winning the everlasting gratitude of the boutique’s owner and Natalia’s friendship.

As they left the boutique and rode back in the van, Cecile grabbed her companion’s hand and smiled coyly. “Natalia, I don’t know how to thank you. I’m sure Sergei will like my new clothes. I will tell you my secret but it’s not official yet. The Major General has asked me to marry him. I accepted and I’ll stay in Minsk.” She waggled her finger to show her ring.

Natalia clapped her hands and Tania slammed on the brakes. “Watch out,” Cecile screamed.

“Is it true, Cecile?” Tania twisted her head and the van slid sidewise.

“For heaven’s sake keep your eyes on the road and let me talk to Natalia.”

Their driver apologized and resumed her driving at a slower pace while listening to the backseat conversation.

Natalia bent to kiss her on the cheek. “I am so happy for you. Oh

Sissyl

, I am glad you will live in Minsk. We can be good friends. I will teach you to dress well and you will teach me to be like you, a strong woman.”

Cecile clasped her hands in her lap, wondering how to broach her demands.

“Why are you so nervous? I will help you with the wedding arrangements,” Natalia said with a bright smile.

“Thank you, Natalia. There is something terrible you can help me fix. Last night some photographers took a picture of Sergei leaving my room. He got so upset and ended in a big fight with them. The National Security guards interfered.”

The pretty woman gasped. “They arrested our Major

Generalle

? Impossible. All

Belarus will protest.”

Cecile reached for her hand and patted it. “No, no. They didn’t arrest him but I got

Sergei into big trouble. Natalia, I was supposed to pay for the reception at the

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To Love a Hero restaurant but I was so tired. You know how gallant the general is.” She was giving the story a romantic twist. “He took the envelope containing the money and went to pay for me. But he got into the fight before he had time to pay. And Roussov found the money.”

“So what is the problem?” Natalia narrowed her almond-shaped eyes.

“The money was in dollars,” Cecile said with a sigh.

“Oh.” Exclamations echoed from the front and back seats.

Cecile continued to press her point. “I explained to the National Security Director the money was mine. Sergei was going to pay the restaurant but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Are you talking about Colonel Roussov? Of course, he wouldn’t listen. He hates the Major

Generalle

. He was Sophia’s father. Everyone knows that. Oh I am sorry, maybe you do not know?”

Exasperated by the slow-motion discussion, Cecile almost shook the manicured hand. “Natalia, I need your help. Can you talk to your husband? Ask him to help

Sergei?”

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Chapter Sixteen

Sergei glanced at his watch. Two in the afternoon. The Minister of Defense had not returned his call. Sitting behind his desk, he sighed in frustration.

Unable to cope with the demoralizing inactivity, he headed down the dark hallway and stomped up the stairs to the minister’s office. He knocked on the door of the antechamber and admitted himself. “

Dubra deen

, good day, Mikhayel, is our minister here?”

The officer straightened up and saluted, “Yes, Generalle

Fedorin. I will tell him you are here to see him.”

Sergei raised a hand toward the secretary. “Don’t bother, Sergeant. I know my way.”

Without giving him the time to protest or move away from his desk, Fedorin wrenched the door open, entered and closed it behind him.

“

Dubra deen

, Minister Anatov.”

The minister bolted from his chair. “

Generalle

Fedorin, how dare you?”

Sergei strutted to the desk and leaned toward his boss, both palms braced on the shining wood. “Minister, you haven’t returned my calls. You should have expected me to come,” he flared through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t going to spend my day and evening waiting like a lamb to be slaughtered while others shredded my reputation.”

His boss slumped back into his chair and folded his arms. He leveled an icy stare at

Sergei. “Fedorin, you have a lot of nerve to force my door and complain. The Major

Generalle fighting photographers, beating the Director of National Security, accepting a foreign bribe and consorting with the American Program Manager. And you claim others are dirtying your good name?”

Sergei settled in a chair facing his boss and recovered his usual calm. Dealing with ministers often amounted to playing diplomatic games with a sober and rational mind.

“Minister Anatov, your reports are false,” Sergei declared with aplomb.

His boss banged a fist on the desk. “I saw pictures, Fedorin.”

“Pictures can be deceiving. If you listen for a minute, I’ll explain.”

The minister balked at his cool assertiveness. “You were always the most aggressive in the war field. This is not a war, Fedorin. You cannot hit and win. I have no time for your crap. Answer my questions. Were you in the American woman’s room last night?”

he bellowed while hunching over his desk.

Sergei shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched them in tight fists. The blood pounding in his ears, he itched to hit the man who was muddying his relationship with

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Cecilya. “Yes, I was in my fiancée’s room.” The truth could not hurt, even if in his heart, it wasn’t the truth anymore. He waited for the minister’s response.

A blank expression answered him. Then his words began to sink in and jerked the minister out of his stupor. “Your what?”

“My fiancée, sir. I asked Dr. Cecile Lornier for her hand in marriage. She agreed to marry me and stay in Minsk. She will become Belarussian and will volunteer at the

Belchem Lab.” He dared the man to find a wrongdoing. “Our engagement is official. I

gave her my mother’s ring two weeks ago.”

The minister lost his voice for a moment. “Well, well.” He fidgeted with a pencil.

“Oh well.” For a second, Sergei noticed a glint of admiration and envy in his boss’s eyes. “You always manage to find an answer and a way out,” he mumbled, then seemed to reconsider and resumed his arrogant stance. “Regardless of this love story, you accepted foreign money from her and hit several men.”

Sergei forged a quick plan to deflect the resentment of his superior onto the Director of National Security. “Minister Anatov, you attended the inauguration and the evening party. You witnessed Dr. Lornier’s effort. My fiancée was exhausted. She still had to pay the restaurant. I tried to save her the task and asked her to rest while I paid for her.

Any gallant man, you included, would have done the same for his lady.” It sounded reasonable to his ears and probably to to his boss’s ears. The minister cleared his throat.

Sergei pressed his point. “Minister Anatov, like everyone else in this ministry, you’ve heard of Colonel Roussov’s hatred for me. Don’t let his personal vendetta discredit me and overshadow your organization.” He was pleading now, knowing damn well his boss’s patronizing taste.

Sergei followed the relaxing of the minister’s scowl and its sudden reappearance.

“Fedorin, I’ve seen Roussov this morning. You almost killed your father-in-law. His face is black and blue. His jaw is swollen and his eye sunken. I promised him justice will be done.”

Time, he needed time. “Yes, sir. I too want justice. But don’t let a scandal spatter over the Ministry. It will affect you as much as Roussov and me and each one of your officers. It will also reflect on your superior, the Vice-President. Stop the press from printing the misleading pictures that Roussov ordered a dishonest journalist to take.”

His fingers thrumming on the desk, the minister stared at the wall, a sure sign of concentration. “Damn it, Fedorin. Why couldn’t you control your temper? My organization has been running smoothly. I don’t need a scandal to mess it up. I will stop the printing of these pictures. But I warn you. I’ve started a full investigation.

Dubra deen.

Good day

, Generalle

.”

Sergei released a heavy breath. He’d convinced his boss to stop the printing of the pictures that would damage his public image but until he turned the table on Roussov, he was still in a mess.

* * * * *

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Colonel Nicouvitch was waiting for him in his office. “

Dubra deen, Generalle

. Elena cooked stuffed cabbage today, your favorite. She wants you to come for dinner. Here, she packed a sandwich and her famous brioche for you.”

“Give her a big hug for me. Your wife is a gem. I will come but I may be gloomy company tonight.” He frowned and his lips stretched with bitterness. Only yesterday, he thought of Cecile as his precious jewel, the sunshine that brightened his life.

The colonel settled in a chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. “Did you hear from our Minister of Defense or from the Vice-President?”

“I left a message at the VP’s office requesting an appointment and I forced the door of Minister Anatov.”

Sergei related his visit. “I managed to stop the printing of the pictures taken last night in front of Cecile’s room and during the fight in the hotel lobby.” He sighed. “Not a big achievement but it gives us time to plan a strategic approach and solve this problem.”

“My

Generalle

, you have had ample opportunities to eliminate Roussov in the past.

You’ve never seized them.”

Sergei stared blankly at the wall. “I couldn’t. Sophia’s death tied my hands. I wasn’t present when she died. I couldn’t destroy her father.”

The colonel bolted out of his chair. “Sergei, stop feeling guilty. It wasn’t your choice to stay away from her. We were in the middle of a war. You couldn’t desert your position and run to her side. Roussov was here in Minsk. He never went to see her.

What kind of father resents his daughter until death?” He waggled a finger. “Stop him before he hurts more people. He has already tried his dirty tricks on Cecile.”

Sergei’s chair scrapped on the hardwood as he stood and faced his colonel with anger. “Dr. Lornier is a strong woman who can take care of herself. She never asked for my help.”

“You’re unfair, Sergei.” Nicolai sent him a pointed look and shook his head.

“Don’t tell me you’ve defected to her camp, Colonel Nicouvitch?” Sergei bellowed unable to prevent his resentment from clouding his judgment. He heaved a deep breath and bit ferociously into the sandwich Elena had sent him.

“

Generalle

, justice will prevail. You are our Major

Generalle and only you have enough dedication to save our country,” the colonel declared with excitement.

Sergei threw him a disillusioned look and attacked his brioche. “Any vodka to clear my head?”

“Here. Enjoy. I am going back to my office. I called a meeting with a dozen colonels.

I need to round up their support for you. If nothing else works, tomorrow, we will rally in front of the Ministry to protest in your favor.”

The phone rang. It was the Vice-President’s office confirming an appointment for the next day.

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* * * * *

The van parked in front of the Vice-President’s residence. The Second Lady bit her lip and allowed her forehead to wrinkle into a hint of a frown. “

Sissyl

, you should talk to my husband. He may listen to you because of his respect for the Major

Generalle

. And of course, because he dislikes Roussov. Come with me inside.”

Cecile followed the sinuous siren up the marble stairs leading to the front door. The guard rang the bell to announce their arrival and immediately opened the door. Inside the parlor, an antique console, needlepoint French chairs, carved tables and Oriental rugs spoke more of the czars’ fabulous era than the simplicity of communism.

Her hostess must have noticed Cecile’s surprised admiration. She smiled with proud satisfaction. “I redecorated the whole mansion and changed the furniture. It was horrible when I moved in, two years ago. My husband gave me carte blanche.” She bent toward Cecile’s ear. “Even the First Lady is jealous of my house,” she whispered in a confidential tone.

Natalia Galinova gave an order to a maid and ushered her guest to a sumptuously decorated side room. They sat next to each other on a gold silk sofa. Cecile was done admiring the overwhelming décor. She forced a smile. “Everything is so beautiful here.” Her leg bobbled in a nervous tap. She glanced impatiently at the grandfather clock. Already four in the afternoon. She prayed she could visit the Minister of Defense before the release of the pictures.

For heaven’s sake, call your husband

. A wave of nausea gripped her stomach. Her general was in trouble, his future collapsing and her dreams shattering and here she was listening to the inanities proffered by this witless doll.

“Here is my husband.” Natalia went to kiss the tall skinny man on the cheek and looped her arm in his. Cecile tried to repress a loud breath of relief.

Natalia spoke in English. “My darling, this is

Sissyl

Lornier, the great woman who refurbished the Belchem Lab to help the fight against cancer. She just told me her wonderful news.” Cecile realized she’d misjudged her. The woman was a born manipulator. “Darling, imagine, the Major

Generalle has asked her to marry him.

Sissyl

will stay in Minsk and work for his cause.” She grabbed Cecile’s hand and extended her fingers under her husband’s nose. “Look at the beautiful ring he gave her.”

The stern man listened without betraying any emotion. Cecile wondered if he even paid attention to his pretty wife’s babbling. Then she noticed the thin line of his lips stretching into an imperceptible smile. “Hmm, Generalle

Fedorin finally hooked.”

Without releasing his wife, he bowed to Cecile. “Miss Lornier, I am pleased to meet you. I read in today’s newspaper an account of your excellence performance at

Belchem.”

He threw a lopsided glimpse at his wife. “My darling, remind me to congratulate the Major

Generalle on his excellent choice. A beautiful and intelligent woman like Miss

Lornier would be a perfect wife for this great hero. In fact, I will see him tomorrow. He asked to meet with me.”

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Deciding not to waste any more time, Cecile took the bull by the horns. “Mr. Vice-

President, my fiancé has a lot of respect for you.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.

I hope my bullshit rings true.

“As you know, he’s a man who fights his own battles.

Unfortunately, last night after a fantastic day and a fun evening, the general got very upset at some reporters for taking undesired pictures of me. He hit them.”

She waited, holding her breath for the man’s reaction. He didn’t flinch. Natalia batted her mascara-shining lashes and jerked her shoulders in a big shiver. “This is so romantic. Remember, darling, the fabulous punch you gave the drunken officer who ogled me the first year we were married?”

“Miss Lornier, we understand the Major

Generalle’s motive. Is there more to your story?” He peered at her. She realized the Vice-President had earned his high-power position.

“Yes, sir. And I take full responsibility for it. Just before Sergei was accosted by the reporters and their cameras, I asked him to spare me the trouble and fatigue of running downstairs to pay the restaurant for the reception.”

“And…” the Vice-President asked, his impatience becoming visible.

“And I gave him an envelope with a lot of money to cover the expenses for the reception.” Cecile couldn’t get herself to confess the crucial detail.

The Vice-President eyed her with an icy look that pulverized her hopes. “I hope you haven’t given him an envelope full of dollars?”

She swallowed hard and stared at the unsympathetic politician, a lump in her throat preventing her from uttering a single word.

His mouth pursed into a disgusted line as he lost his apparent indifference and glared at her. “It takes years for a hero to build and maintain a glorious reputation and five minutes for a woman to destroy it.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s my fault,” she mumbled.

“Oh, I believe you, my dear. I believe you,” he hissed with scorn. “I know Fedorin better than you think. He would never betray his country or break a rule. It takes the negligent foolishness of a woman to bring him down. If only you’d have warned him that the envelope contained foreign currency.”

Cecile didn’t specify she did warn Sergei but he was too incensed to listen. So far, the Vice-President was irked by her revelation and the fall of a favorite hero. She waited for him to suggest his contribution to help Sergei.

Natalia listened in silence. She nudged her husband. “My darling, Sissyl has told me

Generalle

Roussov was present and his National Security guards attacked the Major

Generalle

.”

“Is it true?”

Cecile nodded.

The Vice-President disentangled himself from his wife’s loving arm and marched to the old-fashioned onyx telephone. “I will talk to Minister Anatov and will demand an

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To Love a Hero explanation. I want to know why his generalles are washing their dirty laundry in public and rattling our establishment.” He settled in a chair and talked in Russian for fifteen minutes.

Natalia tried to reassure Cecile and distract her with details of her husband’s powerful achievements. A maid in a black dress and white apron entered carrying a tray of tea and cake. Cecile gratefully accepted a cup of tea but was unable to swallow a bite of the orange cake. As long as the Vice-President supported Sergei and discussed his case with the Minister of Defense, there was nothing else she could do.

At that moment, a butler announced the Minister of Environment. Natalia’s husband put back the receiver in its cradle and stood, his arm extended for a handshake. Minister Letovin stopped in his tracks and gawked at Cecile. “Dr. Lornier, how…how do you manage to be here?”

Natalia dazzled him with a smile and answered for her. “

Sissyl is a good friend and we are trying to help

Generalle

Fedorin.”

The Minister of Environment shook his head. “Wait until my wife hears about this one.”

The Vice-President rolled his eyes. “Women,” he muttered. “Heaven, help us.”

“My darling? What were you saying?” Natalia trilled.

“Nothing, my love.” Amazingly, the powerful VP cowered under the scowl of his pretty wife. “Miss Lornier, you put in motion several branches of our government to save your generalle

. You will back off now and let me handle the situation.”

“Can you tell me what you plan to do, please?”

He stared at her. “No, Miss Lornier, I am not used to discussing my plans with a woman. You can stay and enjoy your tea with my wife.”

“But, sir. Sergei is ”

“I will take care of your Sergei and his father-in-law,” he sputtered. “Now, stay out of the mess you started.”

“Sir, I haven’t reached my position by comfortably staying out of messes, whether I

started them or not. I’m used to coping with pressure and solving problems.” She crossed her arms on her chest while trying to control her rising temper.

The two men looked at each other and scowled at her. Natalia tugged at Cecile’s sleeve and squeezed her hand in warning. The Vice-President’s mouth flicked a light smile, the first one she’d seen on the stern face. “Heaven help Fedorin if he ever survives this mess. The man has designed his own punishment and deserves it for allowing this headache to disturb my afternoon.”

The Vice-President spun toward her and gave her a hard look. “Miss Lornier, I

want a full report of your story. And know that I will verify it. If you want to save your fiancé from a life in prison or a trip to Siberia, don’t falsify the truth.”

Cecile gasped. “Siberia? You must be joking. There’s no more Siberia…I think?”

The man narrowed his eyes in a menacing glance. “Miss Lornier, I never joke.”

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“Yes, sir. I noticed.” She sighed, wondering how the petulant Natalia could live with such a gloomy character.

At that moment the butler introduced the Minister of Defense. He gawked at her.

Cecile tilted her head but didn’t say a word to Sergei’s boss.

The three men talked in Russian. Cecile remained ensconced on the sofa next to

Natalia.

The Vice-President faced her. “Go ahead with your tale, Dr. Lornier.”

Cecile collected her thoughts. This could be the most important presentation of her life. Sergei’s freedom and her happiness depended on it. She heaved a deep breath and launched into her story.

She started with the permit episode, the failing trip to the airport, Roussov’s invitation to dinner and the picture taken. Scowls blackened the foreheads of her audience. Heeding John’s warning, she carefully omitted the bribe episode.

She continued with the second trip to the airport and the charade she and Nicolai played on the airport clerk. The Minister of Environment burst out laughing, the Vice-

President sniffed and the Minister of Defense glared at her.

With a voice full of emotions, Cecile related her trip with Sergei to his village and his mother’s death. The three men inched forward. “The next day we decided to hold an inauguration ceremony for the new lab. Sergei asked me to marry him and stay in

Minsk. I love him. I accepted but I insisted we postpone the announcement until after the inauguration. We both have a mission to fulfill.”

Cecile shifted her gaze from one to the other. She had their full attention. She related the events of the inauguration day, Roussov’s harassment, Sergei’s growing frustration during the day and the final coup of the newspaper picture with Roussov.

The Vice-President raised an eyebrow and threw a stern look at the Minister of

Defense.

So far, her speech seemed to produce the desired effect to turn the tables against

Roussov and away from Sergei.

She lowered her eyelashes and continued with a quivering voice. “Sergei was so upset when he saw this picture. We had a fight and I ran to my room. He joined me later to ask for an explanation. I was about to go and pay the restaurant. He said he would do it for me. I was so tired after the long day and our argument.”

She described how two reporters photographed them as they came out of her room and how Sergei got incensed and ran after them forgetting about the restaurant and the money.

“A big fight took place in the lobby. Five guards attacked the Major General at the same time. He is an incredible hero,” she affirmed with as much pride as a true

Belarussian-born. “He knocked them all down. But Roussov called for the police and more reinforcements. He kept on goading Sergei. Could you believe Colonel Roussov

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To Love a Hero had the guts to thank me for helping him put Sergei away?” She slapped her hand on her thigh.

The Minister of Defense sprang up from his chair. His colleague from the environment chuckled then cleared his throat. The Vice-President remained unmoved but his eyebrows shot up.

Cecile shrugged. “Sergei punched him. I’m sure you would you have done the same, gentlemen.”

She clenched her fingers and waited. She’d finished her tale, the whole truth and—

almost—nothing but the truth. Now she needed to conclude and influence their decision. “Gentlemen, the pictures taken last night could be detrimental for everybody.

Please, stop the press before these pictures get published. Clear the Major General who is innocent of all this mess.”

She turned her head toward the Vice-President but could read no expression on the harsh lines that surrounded his mouth and underlined his eyes. He considered her for a moment. “Fedorin couldn’t hire a better lawyer.”

She started to smile.

“Too bad you did not apply this good reasoning before you destroyed the Major

Generalle

.”

“Sir, please…”

“Miss Lornier, I will ask Minister Letovin to see you out. The Mister of Defense and

I need to discuss the situation.” His tone brooked no argument.

The Minister of Environment stood and held her arm. “Dr. Lornier allow me to accompany you to our Vice-President’s limousine.”

“Miss Lornier.” The Vice-President’s voice rang ominous in the silence. She pivoted toward him, a question in her eyes. “Justice will be done…at all levels.”

The Minister of Environment led her out of the mansion and bowed over her hand.

“I hope things will not be as bad as we expect them to be,” he said with kindness.

She shuddered at the strange encouragement and slid into the backseat of the limousine. The driver started the engine. “Hotel Nievol?”

“

Niet, Circa

. The red church.”

He turned his head toward the backseat. “

Circa

?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“

Da, da. Circa

. Now. Go,” she insisted.

Looking ill-at-ease, the man nodded and drove. While riding with Tania, Cecile had often admired the four round towers delineating the corners of the medieval cathedral.

Sergei had described it as the jewel of Minsk. Now was a good time to visit it. The tranquil serenity of the empty church would still the churning of her heart and restore peace to her tormented mind.

The limousine stopped at the curb. Cecile hopped out and rushed toward the church. She pulled open the heavy sculpted door. Remembering her French grandma’s

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Mona Risk pertinent advice to make a wish when visiting a church for the first time, she halted before crossing the threshold. Her eyes tightly shut, she murmured her most wistful desire through gritted teeth and resolutely stepped inside.

Inside the huge church shrouded in dimness, the scent of burnt candlewicks and melted wax wafted toward her. Cecile turned her head to the right. Against a blue lapis column, a large painting of the Virgin and Child, illuminated by a multitude of candles peeking from a metallic box, beckoned for her attention. Cecile deciphered the Russian letters and name, Our Lady of Kazakhstan, as she fumbled in her purse for some money. She slid her donation into the slit of a small wooden box and lit a candle, whispering, “For his safety…and our happiness.” She wiped the tears welling in her eyes. “If it’s still possible.”

A couple of chandeliers, dangling from bronze chains, projected hazy rays. As she strolled along the central aisle, her heels clicked on the marble floor. The echo reverberated in the silent cathedral, matching the pounding of her heartbeats. Raising her head, she surveyed the cupola hovering behind the altar, and the dome that disappeared high above in the darkness.

She sniffled. The darkness in her heart was pitch-black, with no rays of hope to lighten her despair. Her gaze lingered over the colorful side walls. Against the hot-pink background, a symphony of glittering gold, sparkling silver and turquoise-blue mosaics depicted scenes from the Bible. But Cecile’s amazement at the splendor surrounding her couldn’t distract her from her emotional distress. She’d lost her hero.

Reaching the front of the church, she slid in a pew and knelt. Unable to remember the pious formulae of her childhood, she begged, “Please, help him and help me.” With renewed confidence, she vowed to continue her struggle. She would fight to the limit of her strength and try to salvage their future. A surge of hope shot through her heart as she rose and strolled back to the door.

She scurried toward the limousine and slid in the backseat. “Hotel Nievol. Fast,”

she ordered.

In her room, she found a message from Colonel Nicouvitch.

* * * * *

An unusual silence greeted Sergei at Nicolai’s apartment. “Where are the children?”

“Gone to

Babushka

. Grandma wanted to see them. Besides, we need some quiet here. Elena is warming up the food. Make yourself comfortable, my

Generalle

.”

Sergei removed his jacket and tie and dropped down on the sofa. Nicolai poured the vodka in the shot glasses and handed one to Sergei. “

Nazhtrovia

. Everything will be fine.”

They chugged their drinks bottoms up. Sergei clinked his glass on the table.

“Tomorrow, I’m meeting with our Vice-President. I need to prepare my defense

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To Love a Hero carefully. There should be a way to prove Roussov’s abuse of his position as Director of

National Security.” He narrowed his eyes, beginning to plot.

Nicolai refilled the glasses. “Don’t worry, my

Generalle

. A few glasses of vodka will clear your mind. The solution will just pop up in front of you.”

The bell rang. Nicolai went to answer the door. Savoring the burning taste of the alcohol, Sergei remained ensconced on the sofa, lost in his thoughts.

“Sergei.” The soft voice cut through his reverie.

He bolted from his place. “What the hell are you doing here?” A muscle jerked along his jaw. He could feel darts of fire shooting out of his blazing eyes.

“Sergei, please,” Cecile repeated in an inaudible voice.

“Nicolai, you scheming traitor. Come here.”

She stood, pale and slim, frozen in front of him, not daring to utter another word, like a defendant waiting for a sentence. The scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped him. He had to brace himself against the giddy sensation.

Forcing an icy look, he scanned her with contempt. As he noticed her blonde hair floating on her shoulders, he swallowed hard. His hand itched to reach out and wrap the silky curls around his fingers. Her huge hazel-green eyes, sunken in deep shadows, attested to her stress and lack of sleep. His gaze focused on the pursed lips and he took a step forward. He breathed heavily, trying to control his feelings, to curb the urge that propelled him toward her. How could he still love her?

With a superhuman effort, he turned away from her and wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He heard her sigh.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to seduce you,” she said, derision underscoring her words.

Sergei faced her, keeping a stony mask. She raised her hand and dropped it in a defeated gesture. “Don’t blame Nicolai. He only asked me to come for a business discussion.”

The colonel stepped forward. “Sergei, please. Try to be rational. We need to discuss what Cecile has found out during her meetings with the ministers.”

“What meetings?” The words left his mouth before he could suppress them.

Dumbfounded, he glared at her. Would she never cease to amaze him?

Nicolai seemed completely at ease. “Why don’t you both sit down? I’ll help Elena bring the food. Cecile can brief us on the result of her lobbying.”

“I don’t think my visits to the ministers brought positive results.” Cecile handed

Sergei a small package. “I taped this. Before you eat, I’d like you to hear it.”

Sergei removed the wrapping. “A mini-recorder?”

“Yes and a tape. I hope it will be useful.”

He switched the player on and heard Roussov’s voice. His own former father-in-

law, the man in charge of Belarus National Security, was requesting a bribe from Cecile.

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* * * * *

Nestled in the corner of the sofa, Cecile clasped her hands to prevent them from shaking. She averted her gaze from her companions. The tape forced her to relive one of the most stressful moments of her life. In spite of John’s stern injunction not to divulge the contents of the tape, she’d brought it to Sergei. Hearing Roussov’s voice nauseated her. She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to quench the burning pain of her activated ulcer.

On the tape, the discussion faded out. The two officers remained quiet and looked at each other. Cecile ignored them, pleased that the voice grating on her nerves had been silenced.

“Cecile, why didn’t you give us this tape right away?” Nicolai asked. “The day after your dinner with Roussov?”

With a pleading frown, she groaned. “John didn’t want to create a scandal that would reflect on the American delegation and cause us trouble.”

“You told John about the tape but you didn’t trust me with it?” The pain in Sergei’s voice ripped through her heart. He was right. She hadn’t trusted him enough. In fact, since she’d broken her engagement to Rob, she’d never trusted any man.

She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent tears from pooling at this inappropriate moment and suppressed a quiver. “By the way, John told me today our Department of

Defense has approved the new contract.” The news should please him. She glanced at him. He didn’t answer. It was too late. Too late for any good news. She straightened up.

“The tape is yours. Good night.”

Sergei called, “Cecile.”

She spun around and looked at him, begging him silently to hold her, to love her, to keep her.

“Thank you for the tape.” Their gazes locked and he bowed stiffly.

She nodded and left. He hadn’t asked her to stay. He’d let her go, alone and miserable.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Cecile didn’t wait for the elevator. Her vision blurred, she grasped the banister and proceeded down the stairs like a zombie. She’d done all she could to redeem herself but it wasn’t enough. Sergei resented her. Sergei didn’t want her around. She wiped her eyes with the back of her gloved hand and sniffed.

The tape, her only hope, could save his career but would it bring back his love?

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To Love a Hero

Chapter Seventeen

Waiting in the antechamber of the Vice-President’s office, Sergei heard a shuffling of steps and cacophony of voices a few minutes before the door opened.

“Come in, Fedorin, we need you.” Sergei recognized the nasal pitch of his boss.

What was the Minister of Defense doing here?

As he strode inside the room, Sergei suppressed a gasp. The whole government, or the most powerful part of it, had probably been ordered to join his meeting with the

Vice-President. The Minister of Defense, the Minister of Environment, Colonel Roussov and even Colonel Nicouvitch were gathered in a circle. The private meeting he’d requested had brought a full audience. Were they all expected to contribute an opinion?

Sergei surveyed the group with a guarded expression. “

Dubra outra.

Good morning, gentlemen.”

The Vice-President sat behind his large cherrywood desk and asked Sergei to take the chair at his right. “This is a disgrace for the Ministry of Defense and our entire government. He spread a bunch of pictures in front of him. “Can you explain, Colonel

Roussov?”

The Director of National Security related Sergei’s fight with the photographers and the guards and the discovery of the dollars in Sergei’s jacket. Expecting every accusation gushing out of his former father-in-law’s mouth, Sergei didn’t flinch. He noticed that the others listened quietly, none of them showing any emotion, as if it was old, rehashed news.

“Fedorin, I want to hear your story now.” The VP reclined against the back of his leather seat and folded his arms.

“It is similar to Roussov’s,” he answered with supreme indifference. Without specifying the reason, he explained that some photographers acted with obnoxious indiscretion and he hit them. The foreign currency was in his jacket because he was on his way to pay the restaurant on behalf of the American delegation. He carefully kept

Cecile’s name out of the discussion.

“You are not making a good case for yourself, Major

Generalle

,” the VP declared.

Sergei averted his curious look.

“I am an officer not a lawyer.”

The Minister of Defense interfered. “Look at these pictures, Fedorin. They are damning. For the people of Belarus, you were an honored icon, standing high on a pedestal. If the same people see them now, they will wonder about the hidden sins of their Major

Generalle

.”

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Roussov glanced at him with contempt. “The statue with clay feet has been knocked down.”

Sergei returned the look without betraying an ounce of emotion. He was done being needled and goaded.

The Vice-President slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it, Fedorin. Defend yourself.”

Sergei arched his eyebrows. “Vice-President, I thought I was in trouble precisely because

I fought to defend my privacy. Would anything I tell you now make a difference, or have you already made up your mind?”

“Let’s hear you, Fedorin,” the VP insisted.

“My achievements speak for themselves.” He looked the VP squarely in the eye, determined to stick to facts without bragging. “I am a war veteran. Vice-President, you have awarded me the

Vallianskaya Medaal for services given to the mother country. Two days ago, gentlemen, you all attended the inauguration of the lab dedicated to the testing of our environment, the culmination of the first phase of my project. The effort to rid Belarus of pollution and carcinogens is rolling on. A second contract will soon be in place for the actual cleanup.”

“What second contract? I was not consulted,” Roussov barked.

His boss raised a hand, silencing him. “It’s not signed yet but it’s a dream come true for our country.”

The Vice-President sighed. “Back to the subject at hand. Fedorin, no one questions your past achievements. We have all recognized them. I just wonder about the impact of your recent actions on your career and on the future of our government. Explain these pictures and your involvement with foreign currency.”

Sergei shrugged. “Our citizens have not seen the pictures or heard any story of foreign money. They don’t have to.”

The Minister of Defense inched forward. “Nowadays, you can’t keep a secret and you can’t ask the press to keep one. Because of your short temper, we will all be in the mud pretty soon. We cannot allow this to happen.”

Sergei narrowed his eyes on the selfish pig but the Vice-President cleared his throat.

“Fedorin, you still have not explained the motives leading to the events of yesterday,”

he said in a conciliatory tone.

Exasperated, Sergei heaved a deep breath. “I have nothing more to say, gentlemen.”

“Well, it is a good thing we received a full report from a reliable source and she

didn’t spare us any detail.” The Vice-President’s lips stretched into a hint of a smile.

“

She

?” Sergei sputtered.

“Dr. Lornier,” the Vice-President specified.

“Where the hell did you see her?”

“In my own house, Generalle

Fedorin. After she had gone shopping with my wife.”

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To Love a Hero

Sergei felt like his eyes were popping out of their sockets.

“Yesterday, she visited the US Ambassador and our friend here, Minister Letovin of the Environment,” the VP said, not bothering to conceal his sarcastic tone. “She was planning to continue her tour by stopping at your Ministry of Defense to rattle Minister

Anatov’s ears. I asked her for a full confession, every single detail.”

A wave of frustrated rage engulfed Sergei. He should have guessed that Cecile wouldn’t abide by his command and keep her ass out of his business. His face must have revealed his fury as he turned toward his colonel. Nicouvitch raised helpless hands at the silent inquiry and shrugged.

Sergei grudgingly acknowledged the ironic glances thrown in his direction. He remained speechless, his jaws clenched so hard he was afraid he might break a tooth.

He glimpsed at Roussov and noticed with satisfaction his disgruntled expression.

Apparently, the Director of National Security was not aware of Cecile’s campaign. For only a second, Sergei sent her a grateful thought.

Roussov narrowed his one good eye. “What type of confession are you talking about?”

But the VP ignored him. “Fedorin, in view of yesterday’s events and the deep repercussion it may have on our government, I am sorry to inform you we have decided to take action.”

Roussov smirked and leaned against the back of his chair. Sergei stiffened imperceptibly. It was time to activate his time bomb. He hitched his chin toward

Nicouvitch who bent and opened a tote bag.

Sergei folded his arms over his chest. “Gentlemen, so far you have based your judgment on pictures. How about some music to go with the show?”

“

Generalle

Fedorin, we will not tolerate…” the Vice-President started and then gasped as Cecile’s voice filled the room.

In the tangible silence, they all heard the Director of National Security request a hundred thousand dollars for his service, insisting and bargaining. Petrified, Roussov slouched in his chair.

Suddenly, Roussov’s face twitched. “You can’t do that. You can’t destroy my reputation. I will kill you. And I will kill the bitch.” He drew a gun from inside his jacket pocket and waved it in Sergei’s direction.

The men sprang out and crouched behind their chairs. Sergei plunged and grabbed

Roussov’s feet. The shot deflected, splintering the desk while they all jumped back.

The door burst open admitting two guards. “We heard a shot.”

“Arrest him,” the Vice-President ordered. The two guards took over from Sergei, holding Roussov still between them.

With icy calm, the Vice-President resumed his seat and folded his hands on his desk. “This session allows us to avoid the scandal of a military tribunal and an outside judge. All yours, Mr. Anatov.”

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The Minister of Defense declared with an official tone, “Roussov, you are discharged from the Army of Belarus for abusing your position as Director of National

Security for the purpose of your personal vendetta. You will be prosecuted for attempted bribery and attempted manslaughter.” He addressed the guards. “Lock him up.”

Sergei went to the window. His mind numb, he stared at the heavy flakes of snow swirling in a wind as cold as his soul. Everything he held dear had crumbled and collapsed. Love, mission and loyalty, words that sounded like a bitter utopia. Could a man lose everything at the snap of a finger—the flash of a picture?

“Gentlemen, please return to your seats. We need to continue this meeting,” the

Vice-President ordered.

Apparently, they weren’t done dissecting his life and his future. With a sneer, Sergei folded his arms and sat.

The Minister of Defense cleared his throat, a sure sign he was trying to marshal his strength and strike a final blow. “

Generalle

Fedorin, just before coming here, our Vice-

President, Minister Letovin and I discussed your case. Your lousy temper and lack of control have endangered the reputation of our organization and jeopardized its future.

You were right. The decision was already made. After further consideration and with great regret, I have to inform you, you can no longer serve as our Major

Generalle of

Belarus.”

Nicouvitch gasped. Fedorin kept his emotions under control and stared at the Vice-

President. Not long ago, he admired Sergei’s prowess and had bestowed a medal upon him.

The VP blinked and hesitated. “Fedorin, you are a war hero. We will not tarnish you reputation. I will accept your resignation. You will leave with all due honors.” He delivered his sentence in a crisp tone.

Sergei’s eyes narrowed. His lips thinned in a sad line. “You want me to resign? This is a bit too harsh. Don’t you think?”

“Consider yourself lucky to get out with your freedom,” the Minister of Defense bellowed with a slap on the desk.

“I would gladly give my life and my freedom for my country.”

The VP nodded. “I know, Fedorin. But our Minister of Defense has the responsibility to protect the Army from further scandal. You can still serve your country as a civilian.”

Sergei snorted. They acknowledged his patriotism but they would take advantage of his feelings. Having trampled his reputation under their feet, they would still expect him to serve. And he would, because he loved Belarus. Because he had promised his dead wife and mother to clear his country of pollutants. And because his greatest ambition had been the satisfaction derived from his well-performed duty.

“This session is not over yet. The Major

Generalle

, I mean the former Major

Generalle

,” the Vice-President corrected himself, “is leaving an important project half-

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To Love a Hero done. Colonel Nicouvitch, we will count on you to head the Belchem Laboratory project and bring it to completion.”

“I am honored, sir, although, I am saddened. And I wonder if I can fill the shoes of my illustrious predecessor.”

Sergei’s lips stretched into a half-smile. “Fill them, Nicolai. Fill them, my friend. I

would prefer to see you finish my project rather than an indifferent outsider. The

American delegation will continue to work with you.”

“Have we covered all the items of this extraordinary meeting?” The Minister of

Environment impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk.

“I have an announcement to give to the press,” the Minister of Defense said. “With the approval of our Vice-President, as of tomorrow, the Bureau of National Security is dissolved. We will organize an internal Intelligence based on better principles.”

“Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.” The Vice-President gaveled on the table to dismiss them. “Citizen Fedorin, please give this special message to your fiancée. My wife would like her to join us for dinner sometime.”

Sergei felt a knife digging into his heart. His eyes burning, he heaved a deep breath to control his rage. “Sir, our engagement was secret and is broken now.”

“Tss, tss, tss, Fedorin. My wife has set her heart on preparing a wedding and I can never disappoint my lady. You have twenty-four hours to clear your offices and…make peace with your sweet fiancée.”

“Vice-President, you have just shattered the career of a loyal and disciplined officer,” Sergei sputtered, unable to cope with more humiliation. “The Major

Generalle

of Belarus no longer exists. Citizen Fedorin will pick up the pieces of his life…any way he pleases…and alone. I don’t intend to see you again, gentlemen.”

He strutted out of the room his head high.

The hell with them all.

Sergei left the Vice-President’s office, his heart aching from the sting of ungrateful selfishness. He was a man of action who never analyzed his feelings.

Tonight he had trouble sorting the various shades of disgust lumping in his stomach.

All he ever wanted was to serve his country, to protect the citizens and bring a better life to Belarus. He never really cared about his title of Major General. It had been an honor, yes and a means to help his countrymen but more often than not, it had been a burden restricting his privacy.

He wouldn’t have minded relinquishing the title and remaining a simple officer.

But to be relieved of his duties before he could finish his mission tortured his heart like a burning stick in an open-wound.

They had all hurt him. Roussov, the ministers, the Vice-President and mostly, the fake little bitch who’d promised to love him and hadn’t been able to trust him.

Like a wounded lion, he paced around his desk, unable to sit. He clasped his hands behind his back, afraid to give in to violent anger and destroy this now useless office.

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He had asked her to marry him. Twice. To please her, he had even fallen on his knees, for a formal proposal, the way they did it in her country. He had offered his heart and given her his mother’s ring.

And she’d betrayed him. She consorted with his worst enemy. Dined with him. Let the vile snake wrap his arms around her shoulders. Why?

Breathing with difficulty, Sergei hurled an empty cup against the wall.

Why couldn’t she trust him? Ask for his help?

He would have moved heaven and earth for her. He loved her and trusted her.

Damn her. He still adored her.

Because of her, he’d fought and beaten the photographers and guards. He wanted to protect her reputation and their privacy.

Because of her, he’d lost everything. His title, his career, his dream. And he would not keep his promise to Sophia and his mother. He would not clean the environment and fulfill his mission. Because of her.

An iron vise tightened around his heart. His jaw clenched. He banged so hard on his desk the lamp trembled. A glass snapped and shattered on the floor into thousands of pieces, just like his dreams.

Damn her.

* * * * *

Sergei spent the night in his little room at the Ministry of Defense. He put a lid on his churning mind and stretched out on his bed. Soon, sleep provided the much-sought blankness he yearned for.

The morning brought calm and indifference. He felt no resentment and would seek no revenge. As a citizen, he wanted to be free. Free for the first time in his life. When his head cooled off and his heart relaxed to a normal beat, he would pick up the shreds of his life and start somewhere else. With one regret hovering over his heart, he had not completely fulfilled his pledge to Sophia.

With a detached spirit, he dressed in wool pants and sweater and collected his few civilian clothes to dump them into a plastic bag. The uniforms would remain the property of the Army. Under the watchful eyes of two guards, he proceeded to empty his desk.

Again not much to take. Sophia’s pictures, the Belchem’s latest progress report, a copy of John Gordon’s new proposal for the Minsk environmental cleanup. Two sets of papers, two unfinished projects. Somehow he couldn’t let go of them. He stuffed those few precious items into the bag and slammed the drawer shut.

He threw his big coat over his shoulders and took his plastic bag. He shook hands with his sergeant and smiled with bitterness when he saw him straightening to salute him.

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To Love a Hero

“

Dasvidania

. Goodbye, Eugene and thank you.”

“

Dasvidania

, my

Generalle

.”

Sergei spent a couple of hours in his office at the Hall of Officers. He cleared his desk and filled another bag with three bottles of vodka and his few items of memorabilia. He stood in the office and stared at the rug. It was here that he’d proposed to her. He should have listened to Nicouvitch’s warning not to get involved with a foreign woman.

Sergei strolled to the Red Hall and surveyed the huge room, the place where he’d often headed special meetings. He strutted to the big seal adorning the end wall and saluted the flag. They could take away his uniform but in his heart, he was still an officer of Belarus.

With two plastic bags dangling from his hands, Sergei marched out of the Hall of

Officers. As usual, the military Jeep waited for him. He settled in it for one last ride. He asked the driver to drop him at the bazaar. Some domestic tasks would help him steer away from the drama that had invaded his mind and obstructed his life.

* * * * *

As soon as the elevator door slid open on the seventh floor of his building, an incongruous smell hit him. His nostrils flared and he inhaled. Chocolate. A chocolate cake. It had been a long time since the cranky old neighbor had baked anything worth smelling or even tasting.

Sergei turned the key in the lock and frowned. The delicious aroma emanated from his own apartment. He entered and flicked the light on. Stunned, he stopped dead in his tracks as he sighted a vase of roses adorning the table, set with his tablecloth, his china and his glasses.

Dropping his bags on the floor, he strode to the kitchen and sniffed. The chocolate cake sat on the counter. The stove was switched off but two covered pots stirred a grumbling in his stomach and fury in his heart.

God, Cecile had been here, making herself at home in his own kitchen, playing mistress of the house. She still had his key. He would ask Nicolai to retrieve it.

Sergei walked back to the living room debating whether he was going to eat the meal she had prepared or snub it. But his stomach wouldn’t allow him to dispose of such a treat. He deposited his groceries in the kitchen and carried the other bags to his bedroom. As he stepped in the room, his jaw sagged. He stared blankly.

Right in the middle of his bed, a lovely siren in a pink lace gown slept as peacefully as an innocent child—his far-from-innocent, treacherous, scheming ex-fiancée.

Her naked arms stretched under the pillows revealing alabaster-white shoulders crossed by thin straps. Sergei’s gaze followed the pink ribbons, each ending on a creamy mound and the deep V-neck plunging to the valley between.

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Mona Risk

Depositing his bags on the floor as quietly as possible, he knelt beside the bed. His throat felt as if it was coated with parchment. He wet his lips, feeling dizzy from her perfume and the sight of her. He should strangle her, hurt her, make her pay for his loss and his suffering. His breath coming in labored and ragged gasps, he bent over her face, then hesitated.

She was so beautiful. Would he ever be able to forget her?

His hand reached the golden strand shielding her cheek and lifted it away. Hard as a rock, unable to think, he felt inexorably drawn to her. His lips paused a mere inch away from hers. How could he still love her so much? After all she had put him through?

He would kiss her one last time, a farewell kiss, then push her out of his heart forever.

She sighed and stirred. Her lips collided with his. He captured them and crushed them with hunger and thirst, with rage and fury, with passion and love. Her arms looped around his neck and enchained him. He raised himself and flattened her with his body.

His gorgeous and dazzling Cecilya.

With a groan of remorse, he admitted he loved her even more than he had loved his dead wife. He needed to have her, to melt into her heat and fuse with her loveliness.

Reason deserted him. Passion fired his blood.

Just one more time.

He lowered the straps and exposed her satiny flesh to his roaming hands. He fondled and kissed and lavished her with passion. His mouth clung to a nipple. Her moan chimed in his mind like a victory trumpet announcing she was his again.

He reached in his night-table drawer for protection then jerked her nightgown down her legs. With the same eagerness and without a word, she undressed him and they clung to each other, kissing and stroking and gasping for air. He pulled himself above her then slid into her blazing wetness as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I love you, Sergei. I love you,” she whispered against his skin.

Unable to withstand another second of sweet torture, he thrust deep into her. She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. As he pulled her harder against him, he felt her convulsing and his world exploded.

Spent and satiated, Cecile snuggled against his hard frame, unwilling to move. Her palm spread on his back to keep him welded to her body. He raised his head and stared at her, his eyes mirroring the same passion, the same longing she felt.

Without moving, he grumbled, “This was a mistake. You have to go.”

“I’m staying. And I’ll never let you go. Never, Sergei.”

“We belong to different worlds, different mentalities. It was wrong all along.”

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To Love a Hero

Cecile shook her head. “No. We belong together, in Minsk, in Boston, or anywhere else. Sergei, I never betrayed you. I swear. I never did. I was tricked as much as you were.” Tears filled her eyes as she willed him to believe her.

“You never trusted me. You could have asked me for the permit. I was the Major

Generalle

. I would have forced Roussov to sign it.” His lips compressed in a bitter line.

“Nicolai told me to request your help. John insisted I go to the US Ambassador. I

refused. I had to get this equipment installed on my own. I was the Program Manager.

A female PM, patronized by the macho guys. I

had to do my job, on my own

. Or I would have lost my position at EAL.”

“And now, are you happy you proved yourself?” he asked, his burning gaze boring through her.

“No. I wish I hadn’t. The price was too high.”

“I lost so much, Cecile.”

She buried her head in his neck and cried. “Yes. You lost your career, your mission and your dream because of me.”

He caressed her hair in a soothing motion. “No. Not because of you. Because of my damned father-in-law.”

She cradled his cheeks between her hands. “I can’t let you go, Sergei. I can’t. You see, I have no pride anymore,” she mumbled between sobs.

He comforted her with a smile. “A PM should not cry.”

“I’m not a Program Manager anymore. I’m a woman in love.”

“Please, don’t cry. We’ve hurt each other enough,” he said, wrapping her in his arms.

“You lost a lot…but I am ready to give up my career, my freedom, my country.

For you. Willingly.

”

“Cecilya, you are all I have left to love and to hold in this world. But…” He struggled with his emotions.

“But what?”

“I have nothing to offer, my love. No job, no money, no future.”

Cecile jolted her head up, a dazzling smile gleaming on her face. “I want you

. Just you.”

He gazed at her. She was so beautiful, naked in his arms, pleading for his love.

Could they still be happy together? He sucked in a deep breath. For her, he would start again. Wherever she wanted. With Cecilya at his side, he could see a new future, beautiful moments.

His lips clung to hers in a passionate kiss and his tongue plundered the recess of her mouth.

Cecile relaxed against him. He hadn’t spoken the words she wanted to hear but it didn’t matter anymore. She knew he still loved her.

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Mona Risk

His stomach grumbled. She laughed. “Your big body needs sustenance. Come let’s eat. I’ve cooked and baked.”

“I smelled it from the elevator.” He stood, tugging at her hand. His eyes narrowed.

“Don’t think you can seduce me with a frilly nightgown and a good meal. We still have to talk.”

“My French grandmother often said, to keep a husband home, you need a good table and a good bed.”

Sergei burst out laughing. “Your French babushka is a wise woman. I would like to meet her sometime.”

Cecile beamed. “You’ll meet her, Sergei. We’ll honeymoon in France,” she said demurely.

“You have planned the honeymoon? Without consulting me?”

She glanced at him. He was smiling. She threw her arms around his neck and raised her head to kiss him. But he pulled back and cupped her chin, challenging her. “I have already asked you to marry me. Twice. I won’t do it again.”

“You’re right. It’s my turn to propose.” She kneeled on the bed beside him. As his gaze trailed over her breasts, she draped the sheet around her shoulders to shield herself from his scorching heat. She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

“Major General Sergei Fedorin, my hero, my love, would you like to come with me tomorrow to the American Embassy? Would you marry me and file an entry visa application for the US?”

He closed his eyes, squeezing her against him. “I will marry you, Cecilya. And I

will file the application. But leaving Belarus will be hard. I made a pledge and I didn’t keep it.”

She didn’t doubt he’d forgiven her. But he’d never be able to forget. His unfulfilled promise to Sophia would make her staunch officer sway between the present and the past, between happiness and remorse. And deep in his heart he’d probably hold her responsible. She wanted a clean break from the past and had already taken the right step.

“Sergei, there’s something I have to tell you. Before coming here, I had a private talk with Rob.”

He jolted back and released her. “You ask me to marry you. Then you confess you met privately with your ex-fiancé?” He crossed his arms on his chest, frowning.

“Hold it, darling. Don’t go jumping on your big horse. Rob is crazy about Tania and wants to marry her. He said, at least Tania doesn’t compete with him. She doesn’t question his every word. Apparently I used to do that,” she added with a chuckle.

Sergei scowled. “And what has this to do with us?”

“John doesn’t want me to resign. And for the first time in his life, Rob has acknowledged he needs my expertise. But I won’t stay with EAL unless you agree.”

“You do what you want, Cecile.” She felt his withdrawal and sighed.

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To Love a Hero

“Wait. There’s more. Rob and I called the EAL president in Boston. We told him about the past days’ events. The boss asked us if you’d be interested in a position as a liaison officer with EAL. I highly recommended you. Rob supported my recommendation.”

Sergei raised incredulous brows. “Are you serious? Your boss wants to hire me?”

She nodded. “After all, you know the local government and various agencies better than anyone. Your joining the EAL team would greatly facilitate our job here.”

He grabbed her shoulders and almost shook her. “You mean we would stay in

Minsk? We would work together on the environmental cleanup of Belarus?”

She laughed, an incredible happiness flooding her heart. “Yes, Sergei, yes. You’ll keep your promise to Sophia and you’ll still serve your country…from the other side of the fence.”

“Call your boss, Cecilya. Call him right away. Tell him I accept.” Pulling her into his arms, he crushed her in a fierce hug. “I love you, my darling.

Lublum yavas,”

he whispered, before his lips captured her mouth in a breath-stealing kiss.

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Mona Risk

Epilogue

A large crowd of officers and friends gathered at the Minsk International Airport to say goodbye and wish a safe trip to Mr. and Mrs. Sergei Fedorin. Cecile pointed to the mechanical escalator. It was still there and still broken.

Sergei held her hand. “Don’t go near it alone, my love. We don’t need a roller coaster ride.”

It was just a year ago when the young American Program Manager had arrived in

Minsk and turned his life upside down with her lovely smile and independent mind.

He had no regrets.

Two days after his resignation, the entire American delegation insisted on accompanying him and Cecile and Rob and Tania to the US Embassy. The ambassador performed two weddings back to back and approved two visa applications.

He still couldn’t believe the number of high-ranking personalities who showed up at the Cathedral and the reception organized by the Second Lady to celebrate the happy occasion. The press acclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Fedorin, the very close friends of the Vice-

President, with gorgeous pictures and flattering captions.

With a slap on the back, Nicolai pulled him out of his reminiscences. “You completed your mission and Cecile has closed her contract. We will continue the long-

term monitoring and cleanup of Belarus. But remember, you have friends here. Elena and I will look after your flat until you come back to visit.”

Cecile wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Nicolai, we will never forget you. I promise we will be back next year.”

Nicolai hugged both of them. Sergei led his wife toward the aircraft.

As the plane climbed, Sergei gazed through the window at the country where he’d lived all his life.

The tip of his fingers touched his forehead in a military salute. A lump clogged his throat as he murmured, “

Dasvidania

, Belarus. Goodbye.”

184

About the Author

Of Greek origin, I grew up in Alexandria, Egypt. The balcony of my childhood bedroom overlooked the beautiful Mediterranean Sea. I spent hours curled on the floor of this balcony, reading or staring at the sea, and imagining wonderful stories where I

played heroine to a gorgeous hero. Moving to the U.S. at the age of twenty, I was lucky enough to marry the hero of my dreams and live happily ever after with a lovely daughter and incredibly active son.

As a Ph.D. in Chemistry and director of an environmental analytical laboratory, I

traveled a lot, organized laboratory refurbishments, visited environmental sites, and attended conferences in various places. Over the years, I visited thirty-five countries, fell in love with Europe, and kept writing my memoirs, taking careful notes of the local customs and different cultures. I was in a hotel room in Ukraine, typing my latest adventure on my laptop, when I decided it was time to take an early retirement. After a successful career as a chemist, I would stop writing memoirs and start writing romance novels. I wanted to share the excitement of my travels with real readers.

Once I discovered RWA, my local chapters of FRW and OVRWA, and the online chapters of FTHRWA and Heartbeat, I met generous mentors and struggling critique partners, and studied the trade of writing with the same tenacity I used in preparing my

Ph.D. Five books and more than a dozen awards in contests convinced me I was on the right track.

To Love a Hero was my first-born, the book of my heart. I revised it over and over for four years. It reflects the warmth and hospitality of the local people and the dashing officers with whom I dealt in Belarus.

Mona welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

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