Pity she wasn't one of those women.

The General had once given her a lecture on the temptations of the opposite sex and how she had to keep herself pure. That her strength lay in being untouchable. That her loyalty to her commander and her country couldn't be compromised by a man. Unless that man was Mikhail of course.

She'd stayed true to that advice even after she'd left Russia and she certainly didn't want to compromise her position now.

Are you sure about that?

Oh yes. She was sure.

Katya fought down the heat and the tremble that gripped her, and raised an eyebrow instead. "What now?"

"My original thought on how we could spend the next nine hours, darling. There's a few things we need to work on, such as physical closeness. It's not going to be very believable with you flinching every time I touch you." He turned her hand over in his, rubbed his thumb over her palm in a gentle caress. Sparks shot up her arm and it was only sheer force of will that held her still, determined not to move a muscle.

"I do not flinch," she said coolly, willing her arm to relax and ease the tension out of her fingers.

"Au contraire. You're as stiff as a fucking board right now and I'm only holding your hand. What are you going to be like when I kiss you?"

Kiss her? He was going to kiss her?

Of course he's going to kiss you. You're supposed to be his lover.

An image flashed in her mind, of the woman in his apartment a few weeks ago, when she'd asked him about the dice. Of how he'd looked as he'd kissed her. His dark head bent, intent and sure and ruthless. And the way the woman's body had melted against his ...

Katya set her jaw, deliberately erasing the provocative image from her head. "I'm sure I can manage," she answered, keeping her voice flat and expressionless.

"I'm not convinced." He cocked his head, light from the windows sheening the inky black of his hair. "And if I'm not convinced then no one else will be."

Again, he was right. But she didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.

Why not? He's just a man and this is only a job.

That was true. And she'd had three months of close observation of Alex's many and varied lovers, of their behavior around him. She could do that. She wasn't an actress, but she could pretend.

"Very well," she said, keeping a tight leash on her reactions as he idly brushed his thumb over her palm again, sending more prickles of that odd heat washing over her skin. "What did you have in mind?"

He searched her face and she knew he was looking for some kind of reaction from her, perhaps even hoping for it. But she only looked coolly back, betraying nothing.

A mistake. Because a glint of deep, intense blue suddenly lit in his eyes and she knew she'd woken something in him. Something that should have stayed asleep.

He released her hand and rose to his feet. "What do I have in mind?" he echoed, crossing over to the white leather couch opposite them and sitting down on it so he was facing her. "I'm thinking a demonstration. I want you to convince me that you're desperate for me. That you can't get enough of me. That all you want is for me to take you to bed." He clasped his hands between his knees. "I like my lovers to be frank and uninhibited about what they want. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

Oh yes, she did. His lovers generally were very frank.

Adrenaline had begun to buzz in her veins. Like the rush she got on an intensely physical mission. Where there was nothing but the end goal in mind, only your orders to obey. Where everything was simple and there was no politics or murky loyalties, or unexpected betrayals. A dangerous thing to think when nothing that concerned Alex St. James would ever be that simple.

But this was her mission and she was going to accept it.

"Certainly," she said. "I can do that."

Katya pushed herself out of the chair, taking a moment to get her balance on the unfamiliar shoes and to smooth down the wrinkles in her skirt.

Alex had leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, his arms folded. Watching her as if ready for some kind of performance.

She'd never done this before, but it wasn't as if she'd been blind these past three months.

The woman in his apartment was clear in her mind. The one who'd wrapped her arms around him and asked him to come back to bed, all warmth and sleepy sensuality. She could do that, oh yes, she could.

Katya let a smile turn her mouth and dropped her lashes halfway. Then she walked slowly across the jet's soft white carpeting, the unnaturally high heels guiding the movement of her hips. She kept her gaze on his as she walked, not breaking eye contact.

He waited and she was very conscious of a gathering tension. One that hadn't been there before and shouldn't be there now. But it was too late to pull back, too late to stop. She just had to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there.

She came to a stop in front of him, standing with legs apart on either side of his. Then bent, putting one hand on the arm of the couch and the other on the back of it, leaning over him, looking down into the deep, intense blue of his eyes. They widened slightly and she had the feeling she'd surprised him.

About damn time.

She kept her smile where it was, lifting her hand from the arm of the chair and running a finger along the warm skin of his hard jaw, feeling the brush of stubble. "Alex, darling," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Why don't you come to bed? I'm so lonely there all by myself."

He didn't say a word, only held her gaze. But she felt the muscle in the side of his jaw clench, saw the faint rise of color on his perfect cheekbones.

Interesting. Was this little performance doing something to him?

An unfamiliar sense of satisfaction gripped her, a feeling of power she'd never experienced before. Pushing her advantage for reasons she couldn't have explained, Katya lowered her head a bit more and let her trailing finger move along the line of his lower lip, tracing the full curve of it. The contrast of the roughness of his jaw to the softness of his mouth was ... intriguing.

He remained motionless as she touched him, no expression whatsoever on his face. And yet there was a flame in his eyes. And it burned hot.

Stop, you fool.

He smelled good, a subtle, expensive aftershave that had hints of sandalwood and musk in it. But beneath it another scent, hotter. Raw. The scent of the man beneath the custom-made suit and the lazy smile. A different man.

Finish this.

But she couldn't seem to pull away or stop touching his mouth, and for some reason she was achingly aware of the stretch of his long, lean body beneath her. She lowered her head even farther, so their lips were inches apart, feeling the absurd need to test his boundaries as much as he was testing hers.

"Alex..." she whispered, caressing his name.

His body tensed and she recognized it with the instinct of a fighter. Saw his hand begin to reach for her.

Katya pushed herself away with a sharp movement, straightening and wiping the smile off her face. Looking coolly at him as if his nearness had had no effect on her whatsoever. And of course it hadn't. This was a test for herself as much as for him, and one she'd passed with flying colors.

She put her hands behind her back so he wouldn't see them shake and raised an eyebrow. "Convincing enough for you?"

CHAPTER SIX.

"Good to have you back, Mr. St. James."

Alex gave Marc, the manager of the Fourth Circle, a short nod. "Are my apartments ready?"

"Yes. Everything has been arranged for you and Miss Ivanova."

He seemed to be exquisitely conscious of Katya standing next to him, of the warmth of her hip beneath his palm. Of that maddeningly simple, innocent scent of oranges.

He'd never been so aware of another person and it pissed him off.

He should have done something on the plane, when she'd leaned over him, touching him, her lips millimeters from his. He should have grabbed her. Kissed her. Shocked her in some way. Punished her for making him hard with a mere touch. For making him want what he knew he shouldn't have.

And most of all for getting under his guard.

Convincing enough for you?

Oh yeah, she'd been convincing. Too fucking convincing. And for the first time in his life, he hadn't known what to do or what to say. He'd muttered something, he couldn't remember what, then had gotten out of the chair and found himself some work to carry on with, anything to distract him from the desire coiling in his gut. From the hard-on in his pants.

He wasn't used to self-restraint and that didn't do anything for his mood either. But he didn't want her to know how she'd affected him. Jesus, one touch. On his fucking mouth. Sure, they had chemistry, but he'd had chemistry with other women before and none of them had managed to get him so hard so quickly.

Dangerous....

Dangerous? Where the fuck had that come from?

Alex shrugged off the thought. No, chemistry wasn't dangerous and his unease was only due to Conrad's damn poker game. Nothing to do with Katya herself. God, what he should have done was taken her when he'd had the chance. Indulged himself like he did with anything he wanted, rules be damned.

Because he certainly couldn't have her now. That would be tantamount to dropping his guard and giving her the control, admitting she was a weakness. And he sure as shit wasn't going to do that. He could control himself. People thought he had no restraint at all, but that wasn't true. Just because he didn't exercise it didn't mean he didn't have it.

Whatever, Katya was going to have to stay firmly in the employee zone for the next week.

Doesn't mean you can't play with her, though....

Alex splayed his hand on her hip, testing her. She didn't tense, her body relaxed next to his. No, this wasn't going to happen. He was not going to be the one this was difficult for, no way in fucking hell.

He leaned in, his mouth near her ear. "Why don't you go upstairs, darling? Freshen up. Have a nap. We've got a couple of hours before dinner."

She turned her head, pulling subtly away. "What about you?"

The front doors of the club slammed as the last of their luggage was brought in. Marc had already gotten the Fourth Circle staff working with luggage carts to maneuver the suitcases into the elevators.

"I'm going to do a small tour of the club," Alex said. "Make sure everything is set up for tonight."

Katya gave him a narrow look. "There are no events planned for this evening."

He smiled. This was going to piss her off, but turnabout was fair play, wasn't it? "There is now."

Her brows twitched together. "But according to the schedule-"

"Fuck the schedule. There's always a party when I arrive at the Fourth Circle."

Her mouth thinned in irritation. "You should have-"

Alex let his hand move from her hip down across the curve of her butt and squeezed. Her eyes went wide, that delicious mouth clamping shut. And along with the usual satisfaction, more disturbingly, came the prick of guilt.

"Prick" being the operative word....

Yeah, the butt squeeze was a dick move, but he loathed being on the back foot. Hated feeling out of control. Most especially when he was the one who was supposed to have the advantage. Most especially when he fucking needed the advantage.

Monaco was Conrad's territory, and if Alex wanted this mission to go the way he wanted it to he was going to need all the advantage he could get. And if that meant reminding one bodyguard of her place, then that's what he'd do.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," he murmured, still smiling at her, not bothering to keep the harsh note of anger from his voice. "This is my club, sweetheart, and I don't have to answer to you. So how about you get upstairs and leave me to do what I normally do."

A glint shone bright in her gaze for a second before her expression wiped clean. "Of course. I will assume you are safe here then." Then she turned fully to him and put her hands on his shoulders, rising up on her toes to brush her mouth against his cheek. "I'll see you upstairs," she said in a louder tone. "Don't keep me waiting." Stepping back and away from him, she turned and walked over toward the elevator, her hips swaying, her walk more confident than it had been in the plane and yet just as sexy.

Fuck. Every time he thought he'd one-upped her, she matched him with something unexpected.

He tried to forget about her, sequestering himself in the office with Marc for an hour or so to go over the club's figures.

It was performing well, the latest overhaul and redesign having done wonders for patron numbers. Alex had had the whole club redecorated about six months earlier, giving the place a Victorian brothel/opium den feel that involved lots of dim lights and wall sconces, rich, dark wallpaper, and gauzy hangings. The seating, couches and armchairs, re-covered in deep red velvet while the low tables, in a dark wood, were slightly more Eastern in influence.

The new look had been a hit according to Marc and certainly the numbers reflected that.

Normally studying successful figures and working out how he could make them even more successful was something Alex enjoyed, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on them right now, that deep unease he couldn't seem to shake settling down into his bones.

Perhaps it was the jet laghe didn't recover from it as well as he used to.

It's not the jet lag and you know it.

The Fourth Circle's office had nice views over Monte Carlo Bay from its position overlooking Port Hercule, and it was a beautiful winter day, the glittering blue of the Med in contrast to the white sails of the moored superyachts. A nice change from New York's icy gray streets.

But he didn't see the view, because of course it wasn't the jet lag that was making him feel that way. He'd been in Monaco before and hadn't felt this uneasy.

Admittedly, he'd never gone out of his way to confront Conrad before, at least not the way he was intent on doing now. And naturally enough, delving into all that old shit again, turning up all those old memories, was always going to be difficult. But he could cope, right? It didn't matter anymore, after all.

He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Katya about the Fourth Circle party. An impromptu party was just the thing to announce his arrival, a show of strength and confidence. Plus it had the added advantage of screwing with Conrad, who wouldn't be expecting him. It would keep the guy guessing as to why Alex was in Monte Carlo and what his intentions were.

Unless Conrad didn't give a shit. But Alex was betting he did. And he certainly would once he found out that Alex was a player in his precious game.

"Marc," Alex said, turning from the window. "I'm feeling in a party mood. Get the word out I'm throwing a welcome back to Monte Carlo party, but make it an open secret so we have lots of hopefuls turning up at the doors. I want free glasses of champagne to welcome everyone and free cocktails to those most outrageously dressed. Staff need to be fully costumed up and I want Katie-Lee to do her show tonight. You know, the one with the ribbons."

Restlessly he moved from the window over to the opposite side of the office. The whole wall was privacy glass, giving him a prime view of the interior of the main bar.

"Sure." Marc made a few notes on the tablet computer he held in his hand. "Anything else?"

Alex gazed moodily out through the glass. Several bar staff were already out there, getting things ready for the evening. He imagined the place full of people talking and laughing, drinking and having fun. Katie doing her burlesque act. Music filling any spare spaces in the silence. He'd sit in the VIP areaa series of couches on a stage set above the rest of the bargreeting people he knew, making sure everyone was aware he was back in town. Katya would sit with him and he'd make a big thing of her as his new lover.

And then, once the show was over and done with, he'd go off and find himself something to dull the unease, make him feel in control again. A woman, maybe. He'd have to keep it on the down-low since Katya was supposed to be his lover, but sex usually did the trick and didn't leave him with as bad a hangover as booze. He wasn't as young as he used to be after all.

"No," he said, staring into the empty bar. "I think that's it for now."