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Daria watched thelast of the parishioners leave the church and then her and the medic sat alone in the hallowed, partially-darkening church. The altar boys assisted the priest as they went around putting out the candles and shutting off most of the overhead lights in order to save the pricey, valuable electricity.
It was time. She lifted her chin, tilting it his way to engage him. But, just as she did, she saw Nik turn, his gaze meeting and locking onto hers.
“I’m Nik Morozov,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
Relief fled through Daria that he’d taken the lead. She’d not done undercover work like this before and didn’t know all the nuances and rules about it. “Daria McClusky.” She tried to hide her eagerness in lifting her hand and sliding it into his. Her fingertips were cold because there was no heat in the church. His hand was large, warm and rough-feeling to her smoother flesh. Her heart amped up momentarily when she saw his eyes narrow slightly, turning a darker shade of blue. Daria felt as if he were literally burning her face into his memory. His grip was firm, but he didn’t crush her hand, either. Tiny sparks leapt from her hand into her wrist, flying up her arm. And when the corners of his mouth relaxed and she saw a wry quality in his expression, her heart flew open. For whatever reason, he dropped his game face. Stunned, it took her breath away.
Releasing her hand, Nik said quietly, “Would you care to join me for a cup of tea at a local restaurant on the other side of the plaza?”
She felt bereft as his hand fell away from hers. Her flesh was doing more than tingling now. It wasitchingto continue to touch this man with the faint half smile on his wonderfully-shaped lips, his gaze intent and curious as he studied her. “I’ll come if you offer me a cup of coffee, instead, Mr. Morozov. I’m not a tea drinker.”
Nik unwound, standing up. “Call me Nik? And of course, Peruvian coffee is always good to drink.” He offered her his hand once more.
Daria was struck by his European courtliness. Her lips lifted into a smile of her own, and she placed her fingers into his opened palm. Not only were there thick callouses dotting it, she also saw a number of old, white scars and even newer ones that were pink and shiny. Nik had beautifully-shaped hands, just as she’d imagined. As Daria rose, she reluctantly withdrew her fingers from his. She pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and left the pew.
Outside the church, she waited for him. The broad, white marble steps still shined from the most recent shower. Above them, the clouds churned silently and a break in them allowed a momentary ray of sun to peek through. The warm slats of light cascaded around her. Daria felt Nik approach and stand slightly behind and to the right of her, a very protective gesture on his part toward her. She twisted and looked up at him. He was half a head taller than her, and she watched his gaze move circumspectly around the crowded square plaza. That sense of his radar being on and scanning was a very real sensation to Daria. She could feel the heat of his body behind her on her back and right shoulder, and luxuriated for just a moment in what it felt like to be shielded by a warrior. Back in the church, he had dialed that energy way down. But out here? As she watched him scanning the colorful crowd of locals mingling with the tourists, there was no question he was on guard once more. Had the church given him a moment of reprieve? Daria wanted to ask him.
“Do you come often to this church?” she wondered, engaging him. His mouth had lost that half smile and was now a thinned line. It made him look hard and uncompromising. But, when she spoke, she saw the corners of his mouth soften. And so did the look in his eyes as he settled his gaze upon hers.
“I get into town once a month for five days. I like to go to the church and sit in the back.”
“Does it give you peace?” Daria wasn’t sure she was playing the role or if it was her curiosity eating her up alive about Nik. She saw a veiled sadness come into his eyes for a moment. His mouth twitched and then he gave her a lazy shrug.
“I’m still trying to find it. I thought it would be in there…”
That response slashed through her heart. Oh, she knew exactly what he meant. Nodding, Daria’s throat tightened as she whispered, “It’s like that for me, too.” Instantly, she saw regret and something else in his eyes.
“Well,” he teased lightly, “let’s get you that cup of excellent South American coffee and it may improve how you feel?” He placed his hand lightly against the small of her back to urge her on down the fifteen wide, marble steps.
His hand felt warm and comforting against Daria’s back. It was a possessive gesture, as if he were not only guarding her, but that he had claimed her as his mate and was going to make sure she was protected. She didn’t protest his lingering hand. Didn’t pull away from him. Rather, eased back a little more firmly into his opened palm. She could feel his fingers through the material of her jacket, her skin prickling pleasantly beneath them.
As they descended the steps, she looked around, trying to pretend she was a tourist. She felt Nik monitoring the pressure of his hand upon her back. An overwhelming sensation of being shielded by him avalanched over her as they reached the busy, crowded plaza. The pavement’s white stones gleamed through the standing puddles. Nik guided her smoothly, never bumping into or halting someone in their path on the way to the small restaurant, marked by a Peruvian Flute sign out in front. Once on the wooden porch, he released his hand and opened the door for her. It struck her again that he possessed old-world charm and excellent social skills.
Inside the small restaurant, the round wooden tables were draped with red-and-white checkered tablecloths. Most of them were empty. The noon crowd was gone. She heard Nik switch to Spanish as he raised his hand to the Peruvian owner behind the counter, calling a greeting to him. He then guided Daria to a corner table diagonally opposite the door and pulled out a chair for her. She could get used to this.
Thanking him, she sat down. For the first time, she got a really good look at Nik Morozov. He wore a very old brown leather jacket, with a dark-blue long-sleeved sweatshirt beneath it, well-worn Levi’s and scarred leather combat boots. There was nothing trendy about his man. He was hard- and lean-looking, and Daria would bet his muscles were ropy and powerful. Nik was deceptive upon first sight, but to her trained eye, the way his shoulders stood back with pride just shouted of military bearing along with undeniable confidence. Even more teasing was that male sensuality she’d picked up on earlier. He was not a flirt. But she could feel his maleness and how it stirred her body to life. Nik reminded her of an eagle, his gaze seemingly missing nothing. His black hair was military short, his skin darkly tanned from years of being outdoors. More than anything, the ruggedness of his face, the deep lines here and there, told her of the harshness of his life as nothing else ever would.
“Black coffee?” And then he smiled a little. “Or are you one of those who needs milk and sugar to tame the taste of it?”
Heat swept through Daria, that look he gave her was of a man wanting his woman. Was it for real? Or was this him playing his role with her? Daria found herself wishing it was real. “No, just black. Thank you.”
Nodding, he turned and casually walked over to the counter where the owner stood waiting for their order.
She liked his rangy way of walking. It was a deceptively relaxed stride, but she felt tension radiating naturally off him. Daria sensed that if a crisis occurred, he’d snap into muscle memory, with a swiftness that would be nothing but a blur of reaction toward the threat. She saw no pistol carried by him, unless he had one tucked down the back of his Levi’s, hidden in the waistband and cloaked by the jacket. Did the Russian crews carry weapons on them here in town? In Peru it was illegal to have any military weapons at all. Even pistols had to be registered with the government. But she was sure, since they were drug runners, that they had to have an arsenal hidden somewhere.
Her heart wouldn’t settle down. To see Nik fully, in good light, made her want to stare at him even more. He had an arresting face. It wasn’t a young man’s face, but that of a man who had seen too much. That was part of the complexity of him, Daria decided. She looked around, her gaze moving around the plaza through the huge windows. Everything seemed normal, but what did she know? This was her first day here in Aguas Calientes.
It took every bit of control Nik had to remain calm and collected. He slid the yellow ceramic mug with fresh, steaming coffee, across the table to Daria. Having deliberately placed her so that he could see who entered and left the premises from where he sat, he sipped his own coffee, nearly burning his tongue. In the druzy sunlight shining through the carelessly-washed picture windows, he really saw how fresh and beautiful Daria truly was. Blue highlights caressed the long, thick braid that lay over her right shoulder and down across her upper chest. Her skin was a golden color. Most of all, what the grainy black-and-white photo of her had failed to show was the slight tilt to her eyes, giving her a decidedly exotic look. Her high cheekbones, and her eyes, told him that she might have Russian mixed with Scythian and possibly Mongolian heritage somewhere in her family tree. He smiled to himself and wondered if it came from the women warriors of that time in Asia, because she looked like royalty and warrior all at the same time. Daria’s earthiness went far beyond just being attractive. That photo did her no justice at all.
Nik forced himself back to the present. “What are you doing here in this tiny town far away from civilization?”
“I’m an adjunct professor from a Kiev University,” she said in Spanish. “I’m taking a one-year sabbatical to write about the orchids that grow in this area. I’m collecting information to write a book on them.”
“A biologist?” he asked, also switching easily to Spanish.
“No, a botanist.” She managed a slight smile and saw a bare nod of his head. “I love flowers. All plants, actually.”
“So do I,” he admitted, watching how her lips fit against the ceramic rim of the cup. She was so lush. Like a ripe fruit he wanted to peel open and eat. And he wanted to taste her, starting with those shapely lips and work his way downward, slowly, across her entire willowy body. There was a flame deep in the recesses of her gold-brown eyes. His senses were finely honed after years as an operator and, if Nik wasn’t misreading Daria, that was sexual interest banked up in them.For him.He could feel it. Literally. Which didn’t help his situation. He silently thanked the Levi’s he wore. No one would realize. The zipper was wide and strong, the fabric even stronger. But it was beginning to feel a little cramped down there for him.
