The Russian's Dangerous Game by Elizabeth Lennox Page A

outside and why do you think I’m going to be carted away in handcuffs?”
    She cut off a chunk of the eggs with her fork and tried to come up with a good enough answer for him, but in the end, she decided that honesty would be the best way to go with this man. “I wasn’t at the club Thursday night to dance,” she blurted out. She cut another bite of the eggs, but knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow any of it so she focused on breaking the rest of her meal up into very precise, bite-sized pieces.
    He smothered a smile at her declaration. “I know that. So were you just trying to pick up a man?”
    She reared back, horrified that he would think that of her. “Goodness, no!” she answered, too quickly for him to think she was lying. She shook her head, knowing she sounded ridiculous. “I suppose many women patronize that establishment for that purpose, but that definitely wasn’t my goal.” And then she realized what she’d just said, remembered what had happened and felt her face heat up with the painful blush at those memories. “Well, anyway…”
    Rocco didn’t prod at that statement. At least not yet. He’d definitely get back to the issue of the night, or at least, part of the night that they’d spent together. Because that part was definitely going to be repeated. “So what was so fascinating about that club on that particular night?”
    “You,” she finally said, putting her knife and fork down at a perfect angle. She picked up her coffee cup once again, thinking caffeine would help her brain start working more effectively. “I was there to find you.”
    His eyebrows went up with her bold statement. “I’m flattered, but probably shouldn’t be.”
    She carefully placed her cup down beside her plate and hid her hands underneath the table. Turning to face him, she gave him her full attention now, wanting him to understand that she wasn’t always silly. She had a goal and she was determined to get her story. “No. I was there to do a story on the real you. I wanted to find out what kind of man you are without all the cameras around you. But I think I found something even more fascinating.” She debated for a moment, then decided to come right out and say it. “Who was the man you were meeting with that night?” she asked.
    Rocco’s eyes suddenly closed off. She was treading in dangerous territory now. “Who says I was meeting a man?” he asked.
    She smiled suddenly, enjoying the cat and mouse game. It was thrilling to try and go head to head with a man like Rocco. “I have pictures,” she said with a victorious grin. “I don’t know who he was, but I’m going to find out.”
    Rocco chuckled and shook his head. “Perhaps it was simply a friend.”
    Her grin widened even more. “You didn’t treat him as if he were a friend. You were treating him like he was a stranger standing next to you.”
    Rocco leaned back, prepared to enjoy her for as long as he could. “I am polite to people I meet in social environments. One never knows when a new acquaintance will become useful.”
    Her eyes narrowed as she looked across the table at him. “Strangers don’t pass secret notes to each other.”
    Rocco went very still, wondering how much she knew. “What note?” he asked, but he knew exactly what she was talking about. He might have underestimated this little lovely, he thought. She’d been inordinately perceptive about his meeting and how the hell had she seen the plan that night?
    The cold, hard look in his eyes frightened her, but she instinctively knew that the letter was much more important than what she’d previously been thinking, simply by his reaction. “The note that you slipped into your coat pocket.”
    Rocco watched her carefully. The look in her eyes w as still curious. If she’d read the note, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be at her desk, submitting the story of a lifetime. So he forced his body to relax once again. But his interest was piqued even more. “What was on