The Silver Fox and the Red-Hot Dove Read Free

shrugged off her flattery. He looked down at their joined hands, surprised to feel her hand trembling. He was shocked to realize within seconds that it was only his imagination, because what he felt was the fascinating, invisible vibration again, as if she’d surrounded him with an aura of welcome.
    “You’ve been touring America for two months. Am I the first American who tried to speak with you?” he asked gruffly.
    “The first who didn’t give up quickly. No one has ever made Dr. Kriloff uncomfortable before. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he finds youthreatening, even though you’re a stranger. You have a sense of your own importance. People watch you, to see what you’ll do next.” She added grimly, “Now they are watching me, too, unfortunately.”
    “Then we’ll shock them together.”
    “I know I’m ugly. I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
    “You’re not ugly.”
The most gallant lie I ever told
.
    She held up her other hand, found his with a sureness that seemed to come like an inner radar, and warmed him again with perplexing ideas about communication and desire.
She’s not ugly
, he concluded, and it was a staggering leap of faith, but no lie.
    “You are a kind liar, Mr. Audubon, and you like to cause trouble. Is that why you asked me to dance?”
    “After you talked my ears off and threw yourself into my arms, what else could I do?”
    Her startled gasp became a soft, musical chuckle. The light from the chandelier flickered on her glowing cheeks. The reaction of his appreciative masculine impulses signaled she had just redefined
ugly
once and for all.
    His next step brought his torso close enough to touch her floppy jacket lapels. The top of her head was level with his nose, and the lanky hair had a clean, sweet scent that made him forget its looks. She stared fixedly downward, as if hypnotized by his pleats, pearls, and the rosebud boutonniere. “When I remember America, I’ll remember tonight most of all,” she told him. “Meeting you … I mean, being asked to dance by such an interesting American is worth everything.”
    “We move like this,” he told her in Russian. “Only a little. We can’t do anything important to this music.”
If we were in bed we could, but that’s a different dance
.
    “Important?” she asked.
    He searched for a clearer word and sighed with exasperation. Muttering under his breath in English, a distracted part of his mind noted that she was swaying with him more gracefully than he’dexpected. In fact, when he put one hand against the small of her back, she came alive like a willow, and he felt as if she were bending against his palm.
    Then he realized he’d been thinking out loud, saying flexible, but in English. Audubon tucked his chin and studied the camouflaged face behind the glasses and hair. “Do you speak
any
English?”
    “No.” She darted a glance toward the receiving line and Audubon’s gaze followed. Kriloff looked up from shaking hands to glare at them. “No,” she repeated firmly.
    Audubon took in the exchange with great satisfaction.
She speaks English
. But why would Kriloff be so determined to keep her quiet?
    “I speak such bad Russian,” Audubon told her, sighing. “I give up. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself, and I’ll try to translate.”
    Her hand curled more tightly around his. She had rested her other hand on his shoulder; now it crept higher and slipped around his neck. He could tell exactly where her fingertips were, even through his jacket. It was odd—they made tantalizing hot spots at the top of his spine. The nagging twinge from an old muscle pull faded magically. What seductive distraction!
    “I cannot talk to you very much,” she whispered, her eyes still lowered. “It wouldn’t be wise. You talk to me.”
    “Why are you afraid?”
    Her hand cooled inside his. The heat of her fingertips disappeared. “I cannot,” she repeated, sounding angry and sad.
    “Are you afraid of Dr.