Mission To Seduce

‘Perhaps I’d prefer to find that out for myself,’ she told him stiffly.

Another amused glance came her way. ‘Ah, you’re into this feminism thing, are you?’ Drake remarked with casual chauvinism.

It was the kind of remark that immediately put her back up. Allie thought of telling him exactly what she thought of his attitude, but then shrugged inwardly and let it go; as she intended to ditch him just as soon as possible there seemed no point in setting him straight. But it made her decide at once that he was the sort of man she had absolutely no time for. One who was still trapped in the time-warp of gender stereotyping. Lord, he probably even thought that the little woman’s place was still tied to the kitchen sink!

Giving him a sideways, and very prejudiced, glance from under her lashes, Allie had the momentary thought that it was a pity he wasn’t her type, because she had to admit that his clear-cut features under level eyebrows were more than attractive. And he had the kind of tall, broad-shouldered but slim figure that made clothes look good on him, even elegant. When that adjective came into her mind it caught her by surprise; it wasn’t one she often ascribed to a man but it fitted him exactly.

But if there was one kind of man she couldn’t stand it was one who was narrow-minded in his attitude towards women. Allie had come across it too many times in the past. At first she had fought it, but had come to realise that most of the time she was beating her head against a solid concrete wall. The poor creatures had chauvinism ingrained into them from the cradle and nothing she could say or do would change it. So now she employed a more subtle method, and where necessary used the chauvinism for her own ends. And, looking at Drake Marsden, she decided to do the same now. To use him until she was ready to ditch him and go off on her own secret quest.

Smiling inwardly, she turned to look out of the window at this new country she’d read so much about. The roads were full of cars, mostly old Russian-built Ladas that belted out choking exhaust fumes, making Allie grateful they didn’t have to have the windows open. The car had air-conditioning so was pleasantly cool, but outside the sun beat down on the streets full of sweltering people. It made her feel hot just to look at them. ‘I thought it would be quite cool here,’ she commented, slipping off her jacket, ‘but it’s hotter than England.’

‘We seem to be having a heatwave at the moment, which is quite exceptional. In Russia they have a saying, “We spend nine months looking forward to the summer and then have three months of disappointment.” So you’re in luck.’

Drake steered the car expertly, completely at home in the congested traffic, she noticed. ‘How long have you been out here?’ she asked, for something to say.

‘About six months.’

‘And Bob said you speak Russian.’

‘Yes, I took it as one of my subjects at university.’

An egg-head, she thought. Just her luck. ‘I never went to university,’ she said provocatively.

‘Then you must be extremely good at your job to be given such a responsible assignment,’ Drake commented.

Flattery and condescension all in one sentence! Lord, it would almost be a pleasure to take him down a peg or two, Allie thought tartly, and if all she’d had to think about was her assignment she might have taken the time to do it, just for the hell of it. But right now she had other, far more important things on her mind.

The streets widened into broad thoroughfares, the buildings became grander, and Allie gave a gasp of pleasure as she caught a glimpse of the first onion-domed church to come into view, the golden domes bright and beautiful against the clear blue of the sky.

‘Wait till you see St Basil’s,’ Drake told her.

‘St Basil’s?’

‘It’s the cathedral in Red Square.’

They crossed the bridge over the River Moskva and Allie gave a delighted laugh as she saw the huge church with its brick-coloured towers, surmounted by a hotchpotch of domes. ‘It’s like something out of a fairy-tale!’ she exclaimed. ‘I had no idea there would be domes in so many different colours and patterns. The people who built them must have had a great love of colour.’

‘They still have. They’re a hot-blooded race.’

Allie thought she noticed a note of disapproval in Drake’s voice, which amused her. If he disapproved of people with passion in their veins, then what did that make him? But perhaps he liked playing the austere Englishman.

It took them only another couple of minutes to reach the hotel. Drake parked outside and in a very short time had helped her check in and carry her stuff up to a very comfortable room, with a window from which she could see the patterned domes of St Basil’s.

He glanced at his watch. ‘You’ll want to unpack, and I have some business that will take me about half an hour and then I’ll meet you downstairs. Is there anything you need?’ he asked her.

‘I’d murder for a drink.’

He smiled at the feeling in her voice. ‘Then I’ll meet you in the bar.’

Not, ‘Would you care to meet me in the bar in half an hour?’, Allie noticed, just the arrogant assumption that he was in charge and she would have to fall in with his timetable. In a small act of defiance she opened the fridge that nestled under the built-in dressing-table and poured herself a soda, tilting back her head to savour its liquid coldness in her dry throat, the material of her blouse stretched across her breasts. After the first drink she gave a long sigh and licked her now cool tongue slowly over her parched lips. Glancing at Drake, Allie saw that his eyes were studying her, and she gave a small smile. ‘I thought you had some business to do,’ she reminded him.

He blinked, nodded, said, ‘See you later.’ And went swiftly from the room.

Although the building was old, the ceiling in the room high and corniced with ornate plasterwork, there was, thankfully, a very modern bathroom. Allie stripped off and stood under the shower to cool down, then padded around the room in her underwear while she unpacked her suitcase. There was a safe in the wardrobe and into it she put her valuables, and also a small but very important old notebook. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she took her time in redoing her face and brushing the short blonde curls that clustered round her head like an angel’s halo. She found a sleeveless sun top and a short denim skirt, put them on and looked critically at her reflection for a couple of minutes, wondering whether to make Drake fall for her. He was certainly interested, she knew that already. And it might be amusing.

But no, she decided, picking up her bag; if it got out of hand, if he got serious, it might make it difficult to get rid of him when the time came. Looking at her watch, she saw that she had already kept him waiting for nearly twenty minutes, so strolled down to the bar.

Drake didn’t look at all put out by the wait, in fact was leaning against the bar chatting to another man in fluent Russian. He straightened when she came in, his eyes going over her and lingering just a little too long on her shapely legs. ‘Hello. What would you like to drink?’

‘Well, as I’m in Russia, I suppose it had better be vodka.’

‘With tonic?’

‘Please.’

Drake gave the order to the barman and saw that his companion was looking at Allie with unconcealed interest. ‘Let me introduce you,’ he said dryly. ‘Sergei Morozov. Miss Alexandra Hayden.’

‘Allie,’ she said with a friendly smile as she extended her hand.

It was taken and enveloped in the large hand of a man almost as tall as Drake, but with heavier features that were good-looking in a florid way. He had fair hair, was wearing a brown suit, but had a look in his eyes that spoke of a more extrovert nature under the conventional exterior. He gave her a polite bow and she had to take her hand from his as he showed no sign of releasing it. ‘Welcome to my country,’ he said expansively, as if he owned the place.

‘Why, thank you.’ Both men towered over her five feet three inches, so to make things more equal Allie climbed up onto a bar-stool. There was a momentary silence as both men savoured her legs while she did so, then Sergei said in good English, ‘You are on holiday in Moscow?’

Allie gave Drake a flicking glance, then, seeing no reason to prevaricate, replied, ‘No, actually I’m here on business. I work for a computer information company, and we’ve been asked to put together material for a CD-ROM—a compact disk—on Fabergé.’

‘On Fabergé?’ He opened his hands in an extravagant gesture. ‘Then you have come to the best place in the world. But there is so much information. The factory made so many beautiful things.’

‘So I understand. But I’m concentrating on just the Easter eggs they made at the moment.’

‘Ah, of course. Everyone wants to see the famous eggs.’

‘I understand you have several here in Moscow?’

‘Yes, certainly. At the Armoury museum.’

‘That’s in the Kremlin, isn’t it?’

‘You are well-informed, Allie.’

She smiled, but inwardly wondered if he really thought she would have undertaken a project like this without having first done her homework.

Drake said casually, ‘As a matter of fact Sergei might be able to help you. He has free access to the Kremlin.’

‘You do?’ Allie’s eyes widened and she looked suitably impressed as she gazed at the Russian.

He preened himself a little. ‘It is simply because of my work, you understand.’

‘Oh? What do you do?’