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Lauren nodded. There was nothing weak about Alex Kazak. He was all hard solid muscle, no fat, over a frame of large, sturdy bone. Alex took the cold away from her. “Yes, to keep warm.”
“Who is a teddy bear? Is that American slang?”
She saw how serious he was. “No, it’s not slang. It’s a favorite, soft fuzzy toy of American children. Often, parents give their child a teddy bear. It’s like a loving friend. Someone you can hug, hold onto, and be loved in return because it has fleece for a body. Children hold onto it when they feel frightened. Or alone. It makes them feel safe. Secure.”
“Oh?” Alex said, suddenly giving her a wicked, teasing look. “I am YOUR teddy bear?” He saw a flush sweep her cheeks and she suddenly became rattled as never before.
“Well… uh, no… it’s a toy, Alex.”
“But you called me YOUR teddy bear.” He saw Lauren blush furiously and lick her lower lip, sending a pang of yearning through him. The woman made him ache.
“It’s a manner of speaking,” Lauren provided hastily. “Not real. Just… well… words.”
“Oh,” he murmured, disappointed. Alex would have liked nothing better than to hold Lauren. Make her feel safe. He liked the idea of being her teddy bear. To say she was embarrassed and scrambling would have been an understatement. His grin widened because he’d never seen Lauren as rattled as she was right now. “Is it okay if I consider myself to be your teddy bear when you need one?”
Lauren managed a shy smile, melting beneath his gentle teasing. The amusement dancing in his darkened hazel eyes made her yearn even more to kiss that mobile mouth of his. “Yes, I guess it’s okay.”
Alex halted her in front of a shop where Peruvian shawls, ponchos and scarves were hung in rainbow colors. “Here, allow me to buy you a poncho,” and he pointed at a colorful bunch of them hanging nearby. He smiled over at the older Peruvian woman who wore a black dress, her black hair in a severe knot at the base of her neck, a brown bowler hat on her head. Speaking Spanish, he asked the woman how much it was for a poncho. Her eyes lit up with hope and she hurried forward, sensing a sale.
Lauren ran her fingers through the soft alpaca wool. Alex’s arm was still around her and it felt good. Warm. Wonderful. She listened to him speak in flawless Spanish. And then, he switched to another language she didn’t know, most likely Quechua. He and the woman proprietor spoke fluently in it with one another. Lauren was impressed with his linguistics skill.
“So?” Alex said, turning his attention to her. “Which one calls to you? What color do you like best?”
Lauren picked up a dark-green poncho. It had a hood to it, too. “I like this one.”
Alex removed his arm. “Try it on? See how it feels to you?”
Lauren handed him the strap of her purse. As she pulled the poncho over her head, the warmth was immediate. “Oh, this IS warm,” she murmured to Alex, surprised. Moving her fingers across the delightful weaving, she added, “I like this one.”
“Good choice,” he agreed. “Keep it on. I will pay the señora.”
Lauren took back her purse, pulling the white strap across her shoulder. The poncho was divinely warm. She didn’t want to admit to Alex that he was just as warm. And she found herself preferring him over the poncho. He paid the woman, who was delighted and thanked him over and over again. Turning, Alex slipped his arm around her, drawing her near as they continued to walk up the slope. “Thank you,” Lauren said. “This is a beautiful, practical gift.”
I would buy you the world if you wanted it.Alex kept that to himself. He squeezed her shoulder gently, “I like to see you happy, Lauren.”
Lifting her chin, she drowned in his hooded gaze, his husky voice awakening a storm of longing built within her. He meant it. Sensing Alex wasn’t role playing, she only nodded, her words choked up in her tightening throat.
They continued to walk up the slope, the tourist crowds thickening at dinner hour. She suddenly felt Alex tense. It wasn’t obvious outwardly. Instantly, Lauren lifted her eyes toward the crowd. Alex turned to her, his eyes narrowed and hard. And, without a word, he leaned down and curved his mouth against hers, his arms drawing her hard against him, his back to the crowd.
Startled, Lauren started to resist, but felt danger. Urgency.What was wrong?Her mind spun as his mouth warmly took her lips, kissing her as if his life depended upon it. She felt the power of Alex’s arms holding her protectively, her breasts pressed against his chest, her heart taking off at an erratic beat. His mouth moved caressingly against hers, coaxing open her lips. Lauren lifted her arms without thought, sliding them around his thick neck. The heat of his mouth plunged her into a cauldron of sudden, unexpected fire. Her mind weakened. Spun. She felt the urgency in his mouth against hers, taking her, claiming her and… she responded. Alex positioned her a quarter circle to the right, as if keeping his back toward something. Or someone? Her mind flitted between being alert to what was going on around them, and dissolving into the vat of scalding heat his mouth was evoking from hers.
Alex eased his mouth from hers, watching intently across Lauren’s shoulder, gaze trained on a man threading his way through the crowd below where they stood. He felt Lauren quiver in his arms, but was unable to attend to her needs right now. The bald-headed man, who had just passed within feet of them, was a ruthless Georgian killer. He was a soldier from Vlad Alexandrov’s old team. Alex felt Lauren sag against him, her head pressed against his chest, hands gripping his upper arms as if she were going to fall. Tearing his focus from the Russian, he looked down at her, abject apology written in his expression. Lauren’s eyes were dazed-looking as she stared up at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice wispy. She saw Alex glance down the street, his eyes narrowed, focused on someone. “Was it a Russian?” Her knees felt weak. The man’s kiss had blown through her like a blast furnace of unexpected heat. Pleasure skittered wildly through Lauren’s lower body which now glowed with a throbbing life of its own. The sensations left her stunned and confused in the wake of his life-changing kiss. Alex’s arm slid around her waist. He held her protectively against him, as if he were her shield.
“Yes,” Alex gritted out, fury in his low tone, “Gavril Burak.” He turned Lauren toward the upward slope. “Come, we must leave right now.” He gave her a quick glance. “I am sorry I had to kiss you like that, Lauren. The man came out of nowhere, heading right for us. He would have identified me. There was not time to explain or do anything else.”
Lauren nodded, her whole body continuing to melt in the wake of his mouth taking hers. She wanted to dissolve into the darkness, against Alex. “It’s okay. It was good thinking,” she managed, her voice still sounding far away… somewhere else…
Alex was on full alert. If there was one Russian, there had to be several more. Perhaps many more. Some of the mafia groups were small; others much larger, up to twenty men. He quickened his stride a bit, pulling Lauren along. He made a beeline for their apartment building at the top of the hill. Right now, he needed to disappear. Otherwise, he might be identified. And then, things could turn ugly in a heartbeat. And they had no weapons on them. Alex couldn’t protect Lauren like he needed to.
By the time they reached the stairs, Lauren was huffing. She’d nearly been running at times to keep up with Alex. He guided her in front of him, wanting to protect her. She realized the urgency, and quickly dashed up the steps.
Alex shut the door once they were safely inside the apartment. He locked it and made sure there were no lights on. Going to the window that overlooked the busy street below, he cracked the venetian blind, studying the crowd with practiced intensity. He was peripherally aware of Lauren moving around. He heard her slip off the alpaca poncho. And then, her shoes came off. She was still breathing hard, the altitude getting to her.
“What do we need to do?” she demanded, out of breath.
“Remain here for now,” he murmured, seeing two more Russians coming across the street. “It is a group coming in. I count two, three, four… more…”
