For the briefest of moments, Roman’s gaze cut to a space just over Kir’s shoulder before it locked back on Kir. He smirked and picked up his glass. “Is that so?” He stood just as Kir sensed someone behind him. Roman said in Russian, “Remember, brother. The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.”

Before he could process or ask what Roman meant, an unmistakable feminine voice sounded behind him. “Kir?”

He should have stood.

Should have at least turned around and faced her, but the manners he’d had deeply ingrained since the day he was born couldn’t fight their way free of the shock and foreign panic seizing his muscles.

Roman gave him a barely perceptible nod, the silent dare behind his gray eyes conveyed loud and clear. He lifted his attention to Cassie and his stern glare shifted to something bordering on approachable. “Miss McClintock. It’s good to see you.” With his empty glass in hand, he motioned to Kir. “Please, take my seat and keep my brother entertained. I need to see about getting another drink.”

He left without another word.

Cassie, on the other hand, didn’t budge.

But she was still there. Kir could feel her. The weight of her stare on his back and the same prickling awareness he’d felt the first night he’d laid eyes on her. He forced his muscles to relax and motioned to Roman’s vacated chair. “By all means, sit. I doubt a conversation with the back of my head would be very gratifying.”

It took another few hesitant seconds before she moved, the energy pulsing off her like that of a doe face-to-face with a rifle.

The second she stepped into view he regretted the invitation. Realized he hadn’t braced appropriately for the skirmish that lay ahead, because time had clearly muted his memories. Maybe it was a survival technique of the mind. A way to ease past hurts and allow for his lungs and heart to keep working after she’d cut him off.

Because she was beautiful.

Not some cut and paste, unoriginal model-type beautiful, but unique and vibrant. Blue eyes. A pert little button nose that matched her bold personality and full lips that felt like heaven against his own.

He could still taste her on his tongue.

Hear the throaty sigh she made whenever he found a sensitive spot on her body.

She stood in front of Roman’s chair and gripped her tiny purse with both hands in front of her. The coral leather matched her nails and the whimsical flowers printed on her white sundress. Definitely dressed to catch a man’s eyes. “You sure you don’t mind?”

He cleared his throat and sipped his vodka to chase away his bitterness. “Is there a reason you think I would mind?”

“Maybe because I was a shit and never returned your phone calls?”

He chuckled despite himself. “Your directness was always something I appreciated.” He dipped his head toward the chair and set his drink on the table. “Please. Sit.”