The Russian's Dangerous Game by Elizabeth Lennox

since they’d been in each other’s arms.
    “I’m famished,” she said and looked down. “I forgot to eat dinner last night.”
    Rocco’s hand froze with her words and he smiled slightly. She was a complete mystery. And he liked that. A frustrating mystery, but one he was going to unravel, piece by piece. And enjoy every moment of the unveiling, he thought as he surveyed her unflattering flannel shirt. The only redeeming piece of clothing on the woman was her jeans, which he approved of completely. The flannel and, what he suspected was a brutal sports bra, would have to go though.
    Changing tactics since he wanted to know everything about this woman, he asked, “What were you doing in the barn last night?” Looking at the dark circles under her eyes and the gauntness of her cheeks, his eyes narrowed. “And why the hell didn’t you bring something to eat if you were going to stay out in the cold for so long?”
    He didn’t wait for an answer but took her hand again, leading her down the stairs. He didn’t have to pull her this time and he realized it was because she wanted to get out of the bedroom and away from the bed. That news didn’t cheer him since he was aching to make love to her, but he didn’t want her getting sick on him either.$
    He didn’t stop until they were in the small dining room he preferred when he was alone. There was a larger dining room he used when he had guests or elaborate functions but this room, with the large windows and small table, was more intimate and comfortable. The delicious scents of breakfast wafted to him and he signaled to his housekeeper that she could bring in their meal.
    “If you don’t want an omelet, Ms. Rogers can make you anything you want.”
    A robust woman with a friendly smile brought out two plates that had been warming in the oven. She placed one in front of both of them, then disappeared once again. In addition to an omelet brimming with cheese, ham and vegetables, there was also a huge biscuit on the side of the plate, a bowl of chilled, fresh fruit and, in the center of the table, a large pitcher of orange juice and an urn of coffee. Rocco poured juice and coffee for both of them while Brianna’s mind tried to catch up with everything that was happening.
    “So how did I get from the barn to the house?” she asked, taking a full sip of coffee to try and clear her mind from the cobwebs of sleep.
    He spooned an enormous helping of fresh fruit onto her plate. “I carried you. You’d fallen asleep.”
    She looked down at her plate, truly ashamed that she hadn’t even been able to stay awake . Looking out the window, she tried not to let her performance the previous night get her down. She’d questioned whether a real reporter would hide out in a barn in order to get a story, but she was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t fall asleep in the barn, or anytime during a stakeout while they were trying to get a story.
    “I see,” she said softly, mentally kicking herself for being ten kinds of a fool. “That was very…considerate of you.”
    Rocco noticed the almost defeated look on her lovely face and didn’t like it. He wanted her smile back, her energy. Even her anger would be better than this downtrodden expression. “Would you like to tell me why you were out in my barn? If you wanted to attend the party, I would have been delighted to have you accompany me.”
    She set her coffee cup down on the saucer, fighting back tears. “That’s very generous of you. But I don’t think that would have accomplished my mission very well.”
    Rocco studied the woman sitting across from him, still trying to figure her out. And he was stumped. She simply didn’t fit. She didn’t act like the other women he’d known in the past. She looked sweet and innocent, but there was a vibrating energy deep down inside of her that drew him to her.
    But he had to understand her. She was so different, she fascinated him. “What’s going on, Brianna? Why were you