WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter FIVE

The salmon was so good Kate wondered if Sergei would give her the recipe. But then every time she cooked it she would be reminded of him and this secluded retreat with its homey interior, the rustic log walls, the million dollar view. He’d lit candles and placed them in the middle of the table, adding a romantic element to the meal that she didn’t appreciate. When she’d mentioned it, he’d pragmatically pointed out that fuel and energy were scarce on The Edge and they used them sparingly. Even less in the winter. Darkness encompassed most of the hours this far north.

She hated viewing his chiseled bones, his aristocratic nose, and the close-cropped beard lending him a roughness she found too appealing in the caressing light of the candle. Time slipped away as she ate. She cleaned her plate and didn’t object when he filled it again, barely biting back the thank you.

It was hard to measure this man by the one who had killed Perry and seduced her. She’d sent Perry to his death because of Sergei, and that was something she couldn’t live with.

By feeding her, Sergei was in fact making it easier for her to kill him. She had to remember this. He was restoring her strength, fueling her. Now if she could separate the assassin from the man in front of her.

Without asking if she wanted any, he set a slice of dense, dark chocolate cake in front of her with wild raspberry compote. She should refuse any more food, but this dark dessert whispered to her like salvation. She hadn’t had anything so self-indulgent in years.

“Eat it,” Sergei drawled, looking at her as though daring her to. He took a large bite himself, the muscles in his jaw fascinating her for a minute until he arched a brow at her longer than necessary perusal.

She picked up her fork and broke off a piece. It melted in her mouth. Rich, sinful chocolate coated her tongue while the wild raspberries with their tart sweetness stimulated her taste buds. This time she couldn’t keep in the moan. He grinned as though he had her number. And in this case, she had to admit he did.

“You couldn’t have made this,” she accused. No way he was that good.

“No, I did not. One of the best cooks in Alaska lives here on The Edge, and made this especially for me as a gift before she left.”

“Where is she now?” How close were Sergei and this cook? And why the hell did she care?

“Vacationing in the Northvest vith her children.” Another smile lit his face as though he cared for these children. How did a man who killed for a living care for children? It made him seem less heartless, more human, and she didn’t like that.

“You talk about them with affection.” Who were they to him?

“That is because I do have affection for them.”

“I didn’t know you liked children.”

“There is much about me you don’t know,” he murmured, taking another bite of his dessert while looking her up and down.

She knew Sergei was trying to converse with her, to lower her guard. The intimate candlelight. Them alone together in the lodge. Feeding her dinner.

It wasn’t going to work.

Kate didn’t want to go down that sexually potholed-road so turned the conversation to something neutral. “This cook, she’s the sister to Mel Bennett?” Mel Bennett, part-owner of the lodge, intrigued Kate what with surviving one of the most publicized kidnapping and rescues.

“Dah.” He leaned his forearms on the table, pushing his empty plate aside. “So, Katja, vill I need to keep you tied up all evening? I’m villing to, you understand. Vhile I haven’t spent hours in the company of a beautiful voman restrained, for my pleasure, I find I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Every nerve, wrong and right, flared to life at his words. How did he do that? He’d done the same thing to her in Afghanistan, which is how he’d gotten her upstairs into his hotel room and in his bed. Just listening to him talk in that dark accent that had whispered equally dark promises to her in the deep of night, had her shifting in her chair. Promises that he hadn’t kept since he’d vanished from that hotel room before the sun had risen.

“I am not restrained for your pleasure.”

“Though, oddly enough, I’m enjoying it. How long vill you let me?”

“You tied me up.”

“You forced me to,” he countered. “Are you going to behave? If you promise to, I vill untie you.”

Was he really that susceptible? Or was this a trick? “I’m willing to behave if you are.” For now.

A grin spilt across his face. “I have bested you twice now. I vill best you a third if you try, and I von’t promise I vill contain myself like I have so far.”

Really, contain himself? From what?

His brow arched again as if he’d been able to read her thoughts and dared her to ask for an explanation. She didn’t want one. Nor, apparently, needed one when her insides heated as his gaze brushed over her breasts, her waist, her hips.

She held her hands out as far as they would reach in their T-Rex knots. “Untie me.”

“You must say the vords.”

Oh hell, no. She was not saying please.

“Promise me that you vill not try to kill me again until ve have talked. Really talked. Vhere you listen to my side of the story.”

“Then I can try to kill you?”

“If you feel the need, you can try.”

So the man wanted to talk, attempt to sway her into believing what she knew was wrong. Not with the blood that had painted her hands, the deaths that weighed heavy on her soul.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out.”

“And?”

“I promise not to kill you until after I hear you out. Better?”

“Nyet. But good enough for now.” He stood, reached into his pocket, flicked open a switchblade, and came toward her.