Chapter 9

This was madness to be kissing a stranger in a darkened room lit only by firelight. What else could you call it? But she was tired of being boring old predictable Piper. Mikhail made her feel wild and reckless, alive in ways she'd never dreamed. She didn't want to stop, didn't want to go back to being responsible. She wanted to live in this moment forever.

"What about my taste?" she asked, her voice trembling with desire.

Mikhail stared down at her and slid his hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers coiling the strands tight. A slight pinch of near pain shot sparks into her womb. Piper gasped.

"It's like the sweetest of Georgian wines. It lingers upon my tongue until I ache to become drunk on it." He nuzzled her cheek, his breath echoing hers in quick pants.

All they were doing was kissing, yet it felt like a wildfire had burst to life inside her, and there was no stopping the coming inferno.

"You are to be my ruination." He nipped her bottom lip, and she whimpered.

Maybe this was all some fantastical dream. If it was, she didn't want to wake up anytime soon. She was kissing a man who made her see things, impossible things, and she feltwild. She felt strong, as though the woman she'd always wanted to be was suddenly within her reach, as if he'd unlocked something deep within her. She wouldn't be able to go back to the cool, collected woman she once was. He'd breathed fire into her body, and she wanted the blaze to keep burning bright into the night.

The clang of a platter against the wood floor on the other side of the door made them jump apart. But the heat between them didn't evaporate. Far from it. Mikhail cleared his throat and brushed his hands down his suit. He smiled and ran his fingers once more through her hair, this time to detangle the mess his exploring hands had made.

"We should return to the party," he said. But neither of them moved. Then he glanced around. "Are you staying at the auction house tonight, or do you have a hotel?"

A hint of hunger gleamed in his eyes, warning her that if she answered correctly, this situation could be continued somewhere far more private. The old Piper would have shied away from something so reckless, but the new Piper was ready to take a leap of faith and see where a night with Mikhail would lead.

"Iwell, I have a hotel, but I promised Mr. Thorne I would stay late to discuss a few of the pieces with him. He said I could sleep in one of the spare rooms if I needed to."

God, she was rambling, wasn't she? Cringing, she tried to flash what she hoped was a seductive smile. She never had much luck with that sort of thing, but she was trying her best. If she had the chance to spend one night in this man's bed, it was a risk she wanted to take.

Mikhail feathered his lips over hers in a final lingering ghost of a kiss before he whispered in her ear, "Wait for me here tonight." Then he gently shifted her away from the door and opened it, slipping back into the hall and down to the main room, where someone was giving a speech. Piper stayed put, counting the seconds and the steady but rapid beat of her heart.

When she finally entered the ballroom, she went unnoticed by the crowds. Prospective bidders were focused on the collection of amethysts and lapis lazuli that were gathered on a display table, arranged with purple mums to bring out the natural colors of the gems. Piper looked over the tops of the heads in the crowd, trying to see where Mikhail had gone, but there was no trace of him. Her heart sank with disappointment. She'd hoped he would stay.

"Ms. Linwood!" a reedy voice greeted her, and her shoulders tensed. She forced herself to turn and face Bartholomew Winston. He had been the curator of the jewel exhibit while the hoard had been at the Victoria and Albert Museum. He was a pudgy little man of thirty-four years with a thinning patch of hair and thick black glasses with harsh frames that slightly magnified his eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Winston." After spending just a few breathless moments with a man like Mikhail, she didn't want someone like Bartholomew to ruin her memories.

"Barty, please." He gave a conspiratorial wink that made her feel claustrophobic. In the last week, he'd made it more than clear he wanted to date her, even suggesting that he might be able to further her career with his extensive contacts, and she'd had to turn him down every time. But he still didn't take the hint.

"Right." She slid a step to the side, still searching for Mikhail.

Barty reached out and caught her hand, jerking her to a halt. "I was hoping to talk with you about your evaluation process."

"My evaluation process?" she asked, only half listening.

"Yes. You see, I'm most fascinated by it. I'm a student of history and have long researched the history of Cheapside in London. The process and the presence of goldsmiths in Cheapside"

"You'll have to excuse me, Barty. I really need to speak with my colleague." She offered him a hasty smile and rushed toward Jodie and the man who'd arrived with Mikhail.

"Jodie!" She greeted her friend in relief.

"Hey! Piper, this is Randolph Belishaw. He's one of the biggest patrons of the Victoria and Albert Museum."

"Hi." She smiled at the handsome Englishman. There was something about him, a hint of danger that felt familiar.

"It's a pleasure, Ms. Linwood. Jodie has been telling me all about you." Belishaw's cultured English tones were almost as enticing as the rough and foreign edge of Mikhail's Russian accent.

"You came here with Mr. Barinov, didn't you?" she asked.

"I did." Belishaw glanced around, his extra height affording him a view she didn't have.

"Is he still here?" Piper asked.

"It does not appear so." He focused on her again. "Did you?" His voice trailed off, and he shared a knowing glance with Jodie. The exchange made her blush.

"No, we didn't plan to meet up again." Not true, but she wasn't going to make herself sound desperate. It wouldn't be the first time a guy had sworn to call and didn't. Mikhail bailing on her and not coming back later was definitely within the realm of possibility.

"Ms. Linwood?" Mr. Thorne joined her, passing her the glass of champagne she'd asked for. The older man smiled at her expectantly. "I have a few prospective bidders who are most curious about the collection of toadstones in lot seventeen, and I was wondering if you could talk to them."

"Of course." She followed him, ready to explain that toadstones weren't actually stones but fossilized and polished fish teeth. The Elizabethans loved to wear the teeth as rings to ward off contagions. It was little facts like that which made her job as a gemologist fascinating.

As Piper trailed behind Mr. Thorne, she sighed. The party would go for another two hours at least. She had a long time to wait to see if Mikhail was going to come back tonight after the guests had gone. She prayed he would, or else she'd spend the rest of her life dreaming about where that amazing kiss might've led.