A Game with One Winner. Lynn Raye Harris

did you know we were going in the same direction?” she demanded as the taxi began to inch back into traffic.

      He shrugged. “Because I’m in no hurry. Even if you went north, I could eventually go south again.”

      Caroline tucked her wrap over one shoulder. “That seems like a terrible waste of time.”

      “I hardly think so. I have you alone now.”

      Her heart thumped. Once, she would have been giddy to be alone with him for a long cab ride. She would have turned into his arms and tilted her head back for his kiss. Unwelcome heat bloomed in her cheeks, her belly. How many clandestine kisses had they shared in taxis such as this one?

      Caroline didn’t want to think about it. She slid as far away from him as she could get, and turned to stare out the window at the mass of humanity moving along the sidewalks. A young woman in a yellow dress caught her eye as she walked beneath a streetlamp, her arm looped into the man’s beside her. When she threw her head back and laughed, Caroline felt a pang of envy. When was the last time she’d laughed so spontaneously?

      Arrested by her laugh or her beauty, or some unidentifiable thing Caroline couldn’t see, the man drew the girl into his arms. Caroline craned her neck as the taxi moved past, watched as the girl wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and their lips met.

      When she turned back, she could feel Roman’s eyes on her in the darkened taxi.

      “Ah, romance,” he said, the words dripping with cynicism.

      Caroline closed her eyes and swallowed. She bit her lip against the urge to say she was sorry for any pain she’d caused him. They’d said everything five years ago. It was too late now, and she wasn’t the same person she’d been then.

      “What do you want from me, Roman?” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.

      “You know what I want. What I came here for.”

      She turned to look at him, and barely stopped herself from sucking in her breath at the sight of him all dark and moody beside her. After five years, was she still supposed to be this affected by his dark male beauty?

      “You’re wasting your time. Sullivan’s isn’t for sale at any price.”

      There was silence between them for a long moment. And then he burst into laughter. His voice was rich, deep and sexy, and a curl of heat wound through her at the sound.

      “You will sell, Caroline. You will do it because you can’t bear to see it cease to exist. Be stubborn—and watch when your suppliers cut off your line of credit, one by one. Watch as you have to close one store, and then another, and still you cannot fill your orders or keep your stores supplied with goods. Sullivan’s is known for quality, for luxury. Will you cease to order the best, and settle for second best? Will you tell your customers they can no longer have the Russian caviar, the finest smoked salmon, the specialty cakes from Josette’s, the designer handbags from Italy or the custom suits in the men’s haberdashery?”

      A shiver traveled up her spine, vibrated across her shoulder blades. Her stomach clenched hard. Yes, it was that bad. Yes, she’d been studying the list of her suppliers and wondering how she could cut corners and still keep the quality for which Sullivan’s was known. The specialty food shop was hugely expensive—and yes, she’d thought of downsizing that department, of eliminating it in some markets.

      She’d wanted to ask her father. She’d wanted to sit at his feet and ask him what he thought, just as she’d wanted to turn to Jon and ask him for his opinion. But they were unavailable, and she would not choke. She would make the hard choices. For Ryan. She would do it for Ryan.

      Family was everything. It was all she had.

      “I won’t discuss this with you, Roman,” she said, her voice as hard as she could make it. “You don’t own Sullivan’s yet. If I have anything to say about it, you won’t ever get that chance.”

      “This is the thing you fail to understand, solnyshko. You have no say. It is as inevitable as a sunset.”

      “Nothing is inevitable. Not while I have my wits. I intend to fight you with everything I have. You will not win.”

      His smile was lethally cold. And dangerously attractive if the spike in her temperature was any indication.

      “Ah, but I will. This time, Caroline, I get my way.”

      Her heart thumped. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Surely you aren’t still brooding over our brief affair. You can’t mean to acquire Sullivan’s simply to get revenge for past slights.”

      She said the words as if they were nothing, as if the mere idea were ridiculous, though her pulse skittered wildly in her wrists, her throat.

      The corners of his mouth tightened, and her insides squeezed into a tight ball.

      “Brooding? Hardly that, my dear. I’ve realized since that night that my …” he paused “… feelings … were not quite what I thought they were.” His gaze dropped over her body, back up again. “I was enamored with you, this is true. But love? No.”

      It should not hurt to hear him say such a thing, but it did. She’d loved him so much, and she’d believed that he had loved her in return.

      And now he was telling her he never had. That it was all an illusion. The knowledge hurt far more than she’d have thought possible five years after the fact.

      “Then why are you here?” she asked tightly. “Why does Sullivan’s matter to you? You own far more impressive department stores. You don’t need mine.”

      His laugh was soft, mocking. “No, I don’t need them.” He leaned toward her suddenly, his eyes gleaming in the light from the traffic. Her stomach clenched in reaction, though she hardly knew what she was reacting to.

      “I want them,” he growled. “And I want you.”

      CHAPTER TWO

       Kazarov Ruthless in Business and Bed, Beauty Says

      HE HADN’T INTENDED to go that far, but now that he had, it was interesting to watch her reaction. Her breath hitched in sharply, her hazel-green eyes widening. She dropped her lashes, shielding her eyes from his as she worked to control her expression.

      Since the moment she’d spun toward him on the pavement, he’d been remembering what it had been like with her. It annoyed him greatly. He had his pick of women. The kind of women who took lush gorgeousness to an art form, while Caroline’s beauty was less studied, less polished. Perhaps she was merely pretty, he decided. Not beautiful at all, but pretty.

      But then she raised her lashes and speared him with those eyes, and he felt the jolt at gut level. She was an ice queen, and he wanted nothing more than to melt her frigid exterior. It angered him that he did. He’d had no intention whatsoever of touching her, yet here he was, threatening her with the prospect of once more becoming his mistress.

      “Why?” she said, her voice laced with the same shock he felt at this turn of events.

      Roman shrugged casually, though he felt anything but casual at the moment. “Perhaps I have not had enough of you,” he said. “Or perhaps I want to humiliate you as you humiliated me.”

      She clutched her tiny evening purse in both hands. “You aren’t that kind of man, Roman. You can’t mean to force me into sleeping with you.”

      Savageness surged within him. And the bitter taste of memories he’d rather forget. “You have no idea what kind of man I am, solnyshko. You never did.”

      Her lip trembled, and it nearly undid him. But no, he had to remember how cold she was, how ruthless she had been when he’d laid his heart on the line and made a fool of himself over her. He’d trusted her. Believed her.

      And she’d betrayed him.