Too Proud to be Bought Read Free

She thought about the pile of medical bills she’d been left with, and some rogue streak of rebellion made itself known. And besides, wasn’t it better to concentrate on indignation rather than acknowledge the dizzying effect he was having on her senses?
    ‘Most people don’t confess to their faults on a first meeting,’ she commented drily.
    Icy blue eyes glittered with mischief. ‘Aren’t you rather taking it for granted that there’s going to
be
a second meeting?’ he questioned softly. ‘And isn’t that a little presumptuous of you, or is that what you’ve grown to expect from men—their instant capitulation and desire to see you again?’
    Her experience of men was so small that Zara wanted to laugh—and the idea that someone like her shouldhave men
capitulating
was even funnier. Especially a man as gorgeous as this one, who was clearly living in a parallel universe. ‘Actually, I never take anything for granted,’ she answered. ‘And I certainly try to avoid generalisations about the opposite sex.’
    Nikolai’s eyes narrowed as he heard a note in her voice which he couldn’t quite define. Something which sounded a little like…censure? Once again, he felt a stir of interest. ‘You know, I get the distinct sense that you don’t approve,’ he observed softly.
    Now Zara sensed an even greater danger. Instinct told her to move away and yet another instinct—one which was much more powerful—kept her rooted to the spot. She stared up into the icy glitter of his blue eyes and her heart missed a beat. ‘Of what?’
    ‘Of me,
milaya moya.
Of me.’
    ‘How can I possibly have an opinion about you, when we’re complete strangers?’ she questioned.
    ‘Yes, we are,’ he agreed. ‘But that is something which is easily remedied.’ He gave a brief smile as he watched closely to see whether his name might stir any sign of recognition. ‘My name is Nikolai Komarov.’
    Zara felt her throat thicken, knowing that now was the time to look at him and to say, very calmly:
Actually, I already knew that. I also know that you are a hugely influential man with your own department stores as well as innumerable gorgeous girlfriends—and my friend happens to be a very talented designer. Do you like the dress I’m wearing? Actually, it’s one of hers. Perhaps I could give you one of her cards and you might think about looking at her collection?
But as those palely intense eyes studied her she knew that she couldn’t go through with it. She couldn’t. Was that because she was enjoying the fantasy of flirting with him? Of pretending she
really
was
the person she was dressed up to be instead of some broke little waitress who was doing a friend a favour? ‘You’re…you’re Russian,’ she said slowly.
    ‘How very perceptive of you.’ But Nikolai felt his mouth tighten with an odd kind of disappointment. So it had
not
been an instant eyes-across-a-room thing after all. She
had
heard of him—he would have staked his fortune on that. He had seen the signs of suppressed recognition too many times in the past and he had seen it flare in her eyes. But he didn’t know why he should be either surprised or disappointed—because women always played these games, didn’t they? They lied. They indulged in subterfuge. They would open their pretty eyes very wide and insist that black was white—and sometimes he suspected they even ended up believing it themselves. ‘You know many Russians, perhaps?’
    ‘No. None at all.’
    ‘Until now, of course.’
    ‘Until now,’ she agreed, with a slightly nervous smile. Would he be appalled if he knew who she was—an imposter who had no right to be here? She searched for clues in his face. Good guy or bad guy? Or just a wickedly hot guy who was used to getting whatever he wanted from a woman?
    ‘And you are?’ he prompted.
    His icy eyes were cutting through her defences as he waited for her to respond and for a moment Zara was half tempted to give him a false name. A