Hold Me Tight. Cait London

wanted him.

      “You could say that,” he said in that deep careful drawl that spoke of his Western roots, though she knew that as the child of Russian immigrants, he was fluent in that language.

      Jessica didn’t care what he thought of her. She’d battled for her position as head of Sterling Stops, a quick-shop chain, dismissing gossip that she’d married her second husband for his fortune. Her first husband had been the result of an impetuous teenage marriage, and from him she’d learned to stay away from very physical men—like Alexi.

      In business, she knew how to fight above and below the board table. She knew how to cut short taunts and how to ignore them. In life, she knew how rough a frustrated young husband could be with a teenage bride—and yet a second, older husband could love her so much she could almost forget her desperate past, that everyday struggle to survive. “Then do. Please do. Say that you don’t trust me.”

      “What do you want?” The question shot at her like a bullet.

      Jessica tried not to shiver, but the dampness and freezing chill had seeped into her flesh. “I need your services.”

      A corner of his hard mouth lifted and there was a flicker of disdain in his silver eyes. “Do you?”

      “Stop playing games. Are you available or not?”

      This time, warmth slid into his eyes, his mouth softening just that bit. “You must be determined to go the distance in this bad weather. You’re freezing, soaked through and shivering in that expensive, too-light jacket. You’re expecting me to take off my coat and offer it to you, aren’t you? That would be the thing for a gentleman to do, wouldn’t it, Mrs. Sterling? But then, I’m only a bartender, aren’t I? A man for hire?”

      Those hard blue-gray eyes slid down then up her body once more. Alexi’s temporary warmth shifted suddenly into a cold, hard statement. “Take off that coat. It’s wet and you’re freezing.”

      “No, thanks. I can manage.”

      He studied her comfortable but light leather shoes, one tiny strap torn free. “You weren’t planning to come after me tonight, were you? Why did you?”

      Jessica had been coming from the kitchen, carrying a filled plate to her suite; she’d intended to eat while she watched a favorite movie. Then she’d seen Alexi move down the corridor. He’d been wearing that heavy coat—how she envied him now—but her curiosity had kept her in the shadows. A man with a lover wouldn’t do. Pillow talk with another woman could endanger Willow. If he was seeing a woman, involved with someone, Jessica wanted to know and she’d decided to follow him.

      She should have waited. Dressed in a light sweater, lounging jacket and pants, she hadn’t been prepared to do anything other than walk through the luxurious hallways to the kitchen.

      Then, unexpectedly, Alexi Stepanov had swept through the hallway—tall, brooding, dangerous, and perfect to protect Willow.

      He had deliberately led Jessica through a freezing night and a rough path. Her usual chignon had torn free beneath the hood and she’d impatiently ripped away the pins. Few people saw her with her hair unconfined or mussed; she resented that Alexi had studied her hair, inspecting it on his finger.

      A man who caught the smallest detail, who noticed everything, was exactly what she wanted. But not this close and not her.

      “I didn’t expect that—no. I was hoping for a quiet corner for a discussion.”

      “You’ve got that now.”

      Her feet were freezing! A shiver ran through her before she could hide it.

      Alexi inhaled impatiently and then his hand was at her chest, tugging down the zipper. Once free, he tugged the jacket off of her and tossed it aside.

      In the next instant she was inside his coat and pressed against him. “Okay, now talk,” he ordered briskly.

      Panic gripped her and before she could retrieve her composure, Alexi had caught her fear, studying her.

      “I’m only sharing body warmth, Mrs. Sterling,” he said gently, without the sarcasm she’d expected. Those silvery eyes slid down to her throat, where she was certain her racing pulse could be seen. His voice was husky and soft. “Don’t be afraid.”

      She’d been a teenager on her first wedding night and trapped by a man who—who wasn’t her gentle second husband. Jessica pushed back the fear that could leap through the years, pursuing her if a man came too close. “I…of course I’m not. You’re mistaken. I’m only a little cold.”

      “That admission must have cost you.” Was that a little humor in those cold eyes, the slight softening of those hard lips?

      Dangerous. Quick. A hunter tuned to his senses. Sleek. Powerful. Male. The words danced through her mind, but Jessica forced herself to stand rigidly within his arms, her hands at her sides.

      He was looking too closely at her, invading that tight secret core she held very private and safe.

      Within inches of her face, Alexi’s was even harder. He was scented of soap and man, of the elements outside, of a predator circling her, setting her on edge.

      Intent on relaxing in front of her suite’s television set, Jessica hadn’t bothered with a bra beneath her light sweater. Neither the light sweater or his black sweatshirt softened his body’s hard impact against hers.

      “Settle down, Mrs. Sterling,” he whispered, and the rumble of his deep voice vibrated against her body.

      This man knew exactly what to do with a woman in his arms. He knew how to hold, to look, how to be gentle…. Jessica forced herself to look up at him and tried to push aside her fear of a man holding her. Alexi was too close, too strong, too masculine. “I think we should confer at another time.”

      He lifted that black eyebrow, challenging her. “I’m a busy man. Now is good.”

      If she told the wrong man, she could endanger Willow, the only friend she really trusted.

      The wind howled outside and, without looking, Alexi said, “It’s changed back to snow. The ground will be covered soon—ice beneath the snow.”

      “If you knew that I wanted to talk with you, you could have made this easier.”

      “I wanted to know your limits—how badly you wanted me. You do want me, don’t you, Mrs. Sterling?”

      She resented the sexual inference and anger ripped at her senses. “You’re toying with me. I don’t like it.”

      “Just testing that temper, and you’ve got one for sure. It might keep you warm on the trip back, but you won’t get a second chance at me. Simmer down.”

      “And just stand here? Next to you?” she demanded.

      He shrugged lightly. “You have choices. If you don’t want what I have to offer—leave.”

      “Mikhail wouldn’t like for you not to help a guest in need.”

      His expression hardened. “Or a woman looking for—entertainment?”

      Wasn’t that what Heather, his ex-fiancée, had called him—“Entertainment until better things came along?”

      Alexi didn’t like what his senses were telling him—that Jessica Sterling was soft and fragrant and all woman. His senses told him that he liked her in his arms—that soft, curved body against his—that he wanted to taste those lush lips.

      He wanted to burn away the years of abstinence, to move with her, in her, slick and hot and—

      And his body was hardening, a physical reaction to her body against his—

      Oh, no. Not that again. His mind flashed big warning signals at him. He’d been burned by another woman, just like this one—perfectly painted and groomed and expensive and spoiled. He’d jumped through hoops, been almost stripped of his savings and resources