The Russian's Dangerous Game Read Online Free Page A

strangely attractive man that she was a reporter. Not simply because she wouldn’t get her story. But there was something about him that drew her closer, a connection that she irrationally didn’t want to lose simply because of her career choice.
    “And what kinds of things do you write about?” he asked, moving closer when someone tried to move past him, his chest rubbing against her breasts.
    She tried to think, but he didn’t move back after the person passed by . That left her breasts crushed against his hard, muscular chest. Brianna wanted to run her hands against that chest, to feel the body heat and explore the muscles underneath the fine, cotton shirt. But instead, she gripped the railing behind her with her free hand while the other held her drink aloft, not allowing her palms to experience the bliss of discovering the secrets beneath his shirt.
    “I write about gardens and flowers,” she said slowly, her lips having trouble forming the words. Her eyes dropped to his lips, wondering if he was having as much trouble speaking as she was.
    “And are you an expert gardener?” he asked, thinking perhaps she was a garden blogger or wrote books for a living.
    Brianna had to laugh at the idea of anyone thinking she was an expert gardener. She couldn’t even keep a cactus a live. “Not even in the loosest meaning of the definition,” she replied.
    His hand moved up and spun one of her brown curls around his finger. “So why do you write about flowers and gardening?”
    Too late, she should have told him that she was a gardener, a blogger or just something along those lines. She’d actually created this whole persona for herself earlier tonight just in case he asked her personal questions. But she’d messed up and told him the truth. Now what was she supposed to say?
    “I like gardening,” she finally explained, which was true. She loved plants, wished she could grow something, anything! But most plants simply died on her for some reason. “I’m just not an expert at it. I write the words of other experts, helping them get their message out to readers.”
    He tossed her words around in his mind for a moment. “So you’re a ghost writer?” he suggested and watched her eyes. He knew the instant she decided to lie and almost laughed out loud. She was so easy to read, but he didn’t care that she was dishonest. He wanted her. That was the bottom line.
    “Yes. I’m sort of a ghost writer. I listen to what people tell me and then create their stories in my own words.” Whew! That was pretty close to the truth! She’d better change the subject, she thought silently. “So what do you do?” she asked.
    The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Don’t you know?” He took her drink and placed it on the nearest table since her hand was shaking too much.
    She smiled and shook her head. “I know you’re some sort of financier. Obviously, I’ve heard your name a few times.” Wow! That was a whopper! Everyone in the newsroom was speaking his name. Along with some irritating sheik’s visit to meet with the president, Rocco Antoniv’s name was practically the only thing people were talking about lately. “But what you actually do on a day to day basis, I can’t even imagine.”
    He reached up and touched her neck where her pulse was beating rapidly. “Well, I find a person who is interested in another person,” his finger slid down her skin erotically, “or people who will work well together,” his finger slid across her collar bone, “and I mesh everything so that it works out perfectly.”
    Brianna didn’t miss his double meaning. She swallowed painfully, her eyes moving down to his lips. “That sounds…too simplistic…” she was going to ask another question, or maybe she was going to challenge him. She wasn’t completely sure since his other hand moved up her back, causing her to gasp as heat traveled quickly through her body.
    “Some things don’t need to get complicated,” he