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Rachel’s eyes lit up as if she figured out he wanted to hold her in his arms until she healed and then ravish her once her health restored. “I’m no longer contagious. That is, if Howard told you.”
Huh? He wished he could tell her werewolves didn’t get human diseases with the exception of rabies, which killed them quickly. “No worries. Rest.”
“Will do. Howard will kill me if he knew I came down to answer the door.”
“Goodbye, Rachel.” He turned to tear himself from the beguiling attractive woman, and let himself out. Later, he’d call and invite Becker to a nice restaurant. If the good doctor ever called him back.
As he closed the door, he heard the crash of the most expensive bottle of vodka money could buy shattering on the floor.
“Rachel!”
Rachel lay on the soft leather sofa with a blanket over her and blinked. She stared at the mysterious exceptionally handsome hunk of a man who had come to see Howard. The towering dark-haired muscular Russian sat on the floor next to her. His massive hand held hers as if she was a sleeping princess and he the prince. Her heart pinged in pleasure. Traitor. She jerked her hand away and tried to sit. “What the hell?”
He gently pushed her back. “You fainted.”
Suddenly, everything came back. His unusual expensive gift for her father and—the shattered glass. “Oh shit, I broke the bottle.”
“No worries. I’ll clean the mess.”
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for it.”
“Nonsense. You are sick. I should have not disturbed you.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not long, four minutes or less. Shall I bring you water?”
Rachel nodded. He had to be the most striking man she’d ever met. A handsome face, not the pretty boy type without stubble, but with the rugged façade of a warrior bent on conquering. The hot Russian had slicked his thick raven hair back which enhanced his blue eyes, reminding her of the color of polar ice water. His rich deep Russian accent made her swoon, compelling her to tell him to stay and keep her company. In her travels she’d met quite a few Russian medical staff, but none as delicious. If the Soviet Union still existed, she’d peg him out as some KGB agent. A Russian James Bond-version who could seduce women and even men into revealing state secrets. At well over six foot five or six inches with broad shoulders, a man’s man, and a woman’s ideal caveman, he exuded raw testosterone.
A man who could go from gentleman to feral in a heartbeat. A predator. One who could bring down not just one mammoth, but the entire freakin’ herd. Yet, he obviously was human enough to have vulnerabilities since her father had saved him. Howard travelled quite a bit, so he probably worked on him in Russia. Or had he? Howard had always been away from her and her mother. A workaholic father who missed her piano recitals, science fairs and so much more. What if he’d been a spy and had to stay away to keep her safe? One of her childhood fantasies about why he abandoned her. Maybe this mysterious man was his colleague.
He returned with a glass of water for her. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave now, but first call your father so he knows to come home.”
She drank half of the glass of water. “No. I’m fine. I just won’t move until he returns.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“Being in the company of a lovely lady is not something I question.”
Swooning again. Damn, he’s just being polite. “Never mind. Howard must not have told you about me, but then again, he went to great efforts to keep my name out of the news.” Good old dad must have strong government connections. Only the CIA could cover up what happened.
“No, we haven’t spoken in months. I’ve been in Moscow for two weeks selling my penthouse. I’m now moving to United States and wanted to make sure all was well with him.”
Penthouse. He must be one of those filthy rich Russian tycoons. The kind that bought up real estate in Manhattan and London. No matter how rich why would he want to leave Mother Russia? Maybe he fell in love with an American woman or had a business here. For some stupid reason, the idea he had a girlfriend or a wife bothered her. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but some men never did or took it off when away from home. “For work or love?”
“Work.” He cocked his head. “Why would you have been on the news?”
His deep glance compelled her to open like a book and tell him everything, even after everyone had been sworn to secrecy about her case. “I’m a physician, and I work for Doctors without Borders. I contracted Ebola in West Africa.”
His brows furrowed in concern. “The outbreak in Liberia?”
“Actually, I worked there, but that’s not where I contracted it. I flew to Nigeria with a team to help a small village battling Ebola. After three weeks, we pretty much had it contained. Who knew we would be in even greater danger. The Boko Horam came in looking for young girls. They held the village hostage, murdered dozens, including some of our doctors and took our protective gear. They drove off with me and five preteen girls. I told them the girls had all been exposed and two began showing the symptoms.” She snorted. “Thanks to some clean blood serum I had in my kit.”
“You made it look like they had Ebola?” His smile broadened as if pleased with her deception in fooling the terrorists.
