A Game with One Winner. Lynn Harris Raye

cared that she had, but when he thought of what he’d been doing in those months after he’d left the States, the resentment nearly overwhelmed him.

      His words came out hard. “I don’t believe I said anything about a relationship.”

      Something flashed in her eyes then, something hard and cool—and something that spoke of panic shoved deep beneath the surface. His senses sharpened.

      Interesting.

      “I won’t sleep with you, Roman. Do your worst to me, to Sullivan’s, but you won’t gain what you think you will.”

      Neither of them said anything for a long moment. And then, on impulse, he reached out and slid a finger along her cheek. The move clearly surprised her, but she didn’t flinch. A bubble of satisfaction welled within him as her pupils dilated and her skin heated beneath his touch. She was not unaffected, no matter that she pretended to be.

      “How do you know what I wish to gain, solnyshko?” he purred.

      Caroline couldn’t breathe properly. From the first second he’d touched her, sparks of sensation had been going off inside her like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Her body ached. Her limbs trembled. And liquid heat flooded her core without the slightest hesitation.

       What was wrong with her?

      Just because she hadn’t actually had sex in forever was no reason to respond to this man. Other men had touched her, yet she’d felt nothing. She’d tried to date a couple of times after Jon’s death, because everyone told her she should, and because she was so incredibly lonely without him in her life.

      But each time her date leaned in to kiss her, she felt a wave of panic, not lust. The kisses were unremarkable, the touches not worth thinking about. She’d excused herself the first second she could, and she’d never accepted another invitation.

      She was beginning to think she was meant to be alone, that she’d only experienced the passion she had because it had given her Ryan. Those days were long over.

      Until now. Until the instant Roman had run his finger over her skin, she’d thought she was, for all intents and purposes, frozen inside.

      “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. Not now. It was too complicated, and she couldn’t face the trouble it would cause her.

      His ice-blue eyes were intent on hers, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the taxi. His gaze dropped to her lips, took a leisurely trip back up to meet her eyes.

      “Why does anyone do anything?”

      He was as she remembered, and yet he was different, too. Harder. More ruthless. In spite of what he’d said about not being in love with her, was it her fault that he’d changed? “I’m sorry, Roman,” she said, despite her determination not to. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

      His laugh stroked softly against her heightened nerves. “Hurt me? Nyet, my darling. You did not hurt me. Wounded my pride a bit, perhaps. But I quickly recovered, I assure you.”

      Caroline swallowed. She’d been devastated after that night, but she’d borne it all with quiet stoicism. Jon had been the only one who’d known what it had cost her to marry him.

      She dropped her gaze to where she still clutched her purse in her hands. She’d done what had to be done. She’d been the only one who could. When Jon’s parents had insisted on the match, when they’d threatened to sell their shares in Sullivan’s and deliver majority control to a rival who would gut the stores and scatter their employees, Caroline had stepped up and done her duty. She’d saved the family legacy and thousands of jobs. It was something to be proud of. And she was proud, damn it.

      Too proud to cower before this man.

      She lifted her chin and met his hard gaze. She refused to flinch from the naked anger she saw there. And the need. He let that show through for a moment, and it stunned her.

      How could he still want her after all that had happened? After the horrible things she’d said in order to make him go away?

      But he did. Worse, she realized that she wanted him, too. She wanted to lean in and kiss him, wanted to feel the hot press of his mouth against hers once more. She’d never felt so alive as when he’d kissed her.

      But no, that was another time. She’d been younger, more carefree, and unaware of the profound sadness life could bring. She knew better now. If she kissed him—if she let herself fall into him—it would only hurt worse once she had to disengage again.

      “I’m glad to hear it, Roman. We weren’t right for each other. You know it as well as I.”

      He snorted. “You mean that you were too good for me. That Caroline Sullivan deserved someone far better than the son of a Russian laborer. The peasant blood that runs through my veins would sully your bloodline.”

      “I was young,” she said, shame twisting inside her at the things she’d had to let him believe that night. But it had been the only way. She’d had to burn the bridge behind her or risk tiptoeing across it again. “And that was not precisely what I said.”

      “You didn’t have to. I understood your meaning quite clearly.”

      Caroline took a deep breath. There was too much pain here, too many memories. Too many what-ifs. “I know you don’t understand, but it was the only choice I had.”

      It wasn’t an explanation, but it was more than she’d said five years ago.

      He looked at her in disbelief. “You would dare to say such a thing? To suggest you had no choice in your actions that night? What sort of tale of woe do you intend to ply me with, Caroline?”

      Before she could dredge up an answer, the taxi came to a stop and the driver announced over the tinny speaker that they’d arrived at the first destination. Caroline turned her head to stare blindly at the unfamiliar house, before she remembered that she’d purposely given the wrong address.

      She drew in a calming breath and turned back to face the angry man beside her. “Good night, Roman.”

      “I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, his tone clipped, as she reached for the handle.

      “No,” she blurted. “I don’t want that.”

      “Then I will wait until you are safely inside before leaving.”

      Caroline licked suddenly dry lips. “No, don’t do that. It’s fine. This neighborhood is quite safe. I sometimes take walks later than this just to clear my head.”

      It wasn’t true—the walks, anyway—but she didn’t want him to stay, since she couldn’t enter the house they’d stopped in front of. She didn’t even know who lived here. She knew her immediate neighbors on her street, but not those any farther afield.

      Why had she panicked when he’d gotten into the taxi? Why hadn’t she simply given her address instead of lying? Now she was caught like a fish on a hook, and he was watching her with more than a little curiosity in his gaze.

      “I am not so coarse as to leave a lady on a darkened street. I insist.”

      He reached across her, intending to pull the handle. She reacted blindly, turning into him and pressing her mouth to his throat. The first touch was shocking. His skin was warm, his pulse a strong throb in his neck, and something soft and needy quivered to life in her core.

      She didn’t know what she was doing, except that she had to get him away from here before he figured out this wasn’t where she lived. She’d wanted to distract him before he could ask questions, but she hadn’t bargained on the feelings pulsing to life inside her. She felt as if she’d touched a hot iron. Logic dictated she pull away, but fear drove her onward. An irrational fear, certainly, but she was committed now.

      Roman gripped her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat.

      “What