She made a soft, startled sound. Before she could think of anything to say, he added brusquely, “Put a robe over your cookies, Miss Scout. I’m on my way upstairs.”
Rebecca felt a little stunned as she hung up the phone. A second later she was staggering around, remembering that she’d sent her skirt and blouse to be laundered, that she had no hairbrush, makeup, toothbrush, or a gun to threaten Kash with for arriving so early and putting her in this addled condition.
When she opened the door to him, she looked up stoically into his freshly shaved face, then down slowly at his handsome chest, covered in a soft blue pullover. Cream-colored trousers encased his long legs, ending at soft gray walking shoes. Today he was as sporty as any tourist, but with this exotic, self-composed tower of masculinity, sporty was a panther wearing a house cat’s collar. Her heart hammered in her throat. Under the curling black lashes his dark eyes examined her intently, and the look on his face was more serious than she’d expected.
“I couldn’t comb my hair,” she mumbled, gesturing vaguely. She hugged her robe tighter over her bare chest. “I have no clothes. I have underwear, but that’s all, except for the robe, of course. I sent my clothes out.”
She felt each nerve ending come alive at the thought that the glance he flicked down her body meant he was thinking what she thought he was thinking.
“I hate to spoil this enticing view, but I brought you something to wear,” he said finally. His tone was neutral, but she knew he must be joking. The only enticing view at the moment was him, and he probably realized that she was captivated by the sight. He lifted an expensive and new-looking leather tote. “For you. Inside is an outfit for you to wear while we shop for more. And a hairbrush. And various other items I assumed most women would want. Oh, and a bottle of perfume. A cinnamon fragrance. I hope it makes you feel secure and, hmmm, homey.” He said the last word as if it were foreign to him, and slightly suspect.
Rebecca shot him a rebuking look. “You still think of me as a silly cinnamon bun?”
“Now, now, I wasn’t trying to insult you last night. I happen to like perfumes that make me think of eating. ” He scanned her flushed face and arched a brow mischievously. “You really want to smile. I think you would if you weren’t convinced I’m making fun of you.”
“You are.”
“But not in the way you think. I’ve never met anyone like you before. Not anyone from Iowa, not anyone so gosh-darned cheerful. I enjoy ruffling your corn silk. But as I said last night, I like you just the way you are.”
“That’s not quite what you said. You hinted that I’d better not be lying about who I am.”
“Because you’re so different from me. I appreciate that.”
Puzzled but breathless, she took the handsome tote from him and bustled away, her knees weak. “You went to a lot of trouble for this. Thank you.”
“I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Oh, here’s your coffee.” Kovit appeared with a tray. He bowed and stepped past her, put the tray on a table near the door, then glided back out. “Kovit will escort you downstairs. I have some phone calls to make.”
“I’ll see you downstairs,” she agreed, searching his expression for clues to the man behind it. She saw a smooth tightening, a retreat, and a certain deepening of his own scrutiny of her. A trill of alarm but also burning curiosity rose inside her. What kind of man was he? How deep were his secrets?
He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “It’s going to be a long day.”
After he left, she shut the door weakly, then let out a slow, troubled sigh. Kash was the most organized man she’d ever met, probably her exact opposite in that regard. And in many other ways, she added regretfully. She had very little reason to like or trust him, but she was falling under his spell.
After all, when he wasn’t badgering her, he was doing thoughtful little things such as remembering her favorite fragrance and—Good heavens, had he gone shopping for this bag full of items in the middle of the night? Where? Didn’t he sleep? She hadn’t gotten more than two hours sleep herself, and if she weren’t supercharged on adrenaline and Santelli’s electric effect on her senses, she’d be a zombie.
She had dreamed about the mystery man who’d become her … her what? she asked. Her ally? Her guard? Her fantasy? Wandering to the coffee tray, she fumbled with the insulated pot, poured a cupful of the black liquid, then distractedly dunked a spoonful of brown sugar into it. She finished by squeezing a thin slice of orange into the coffee.
Kash Santelli. The Asian-Italian sheik from Virginia, with a melodic southern accent, impeccable clothes, obvious education, sophistication, and money, but she guessed that none of those fine things had been part of his childhood. He liked early mornings and carried a gun. Brothels disgusted him but were familiar territory. He made black threats and sexual innuendos but treated her with care. Without half trying, he made her feel incredibly desirable, but also naive.
“I’ll go crazy if I don’t find out everything about you, Dragon,” she said out loud. “You’re not the only one who’s smart enough to pry out important details.”
Feeling determined and strong, she took a sip of coffee. With a soft gasp she set it down and stared at it. Orange slices. Brown sugar. How had he known she liked them? Somehow, while she’d slept, he’d researched her and learned the quirky way she fixed her coffee. What kind of man had the means and determination to find out so much about her?
She slumped down in a chair and looked at the cup as if it were her most intimate secret, and Kash had just served it to her with a deadly, warning smile.
The morning had gone quietly—too quietly, Kash thought, as they drank frothy Thai iced tea inside a tiny streetside café. Only the sounds of conversation around them, the click of chopsticks on ceramic bowls of spicy noodles, and the soft whir of ceiling fans filled the silence between them. He watched her eat delicately, trying with obvious determination to conquer her chopsticks and the noodles, and also trying to ignore him as much as possible, which she’d done all morning.
She’d come down to the hotel lobby in a subdued mood, and hadn’t said much to him over breakfast or in the hours since, as she shopped for clothes to replace her stolen ones. Kovit lumbered along behind them, as curious and intrigued as a chaperon, so maybe she’d felt awkward or shy. But Kovit had been sent back to the hotel with her purchases.
At first Kash told himself that her withdrawn attitude was a blessing; he needed the quiet time to observe her and silently sort out his emotions. No other woman had ever made him feel this way. He alternated between exhilaration and confusion.
Her moodiness began to grate on him. Where was the stubborn teasing, the humor, the fascinating storm of emotion and conversation he’d expected? He was churning inside because she wouldn’t speak to him. He, who rarely craved more than his own thoughts, much less a near stranger’s conversation, was an emotional mess because of this troublesome woman, a stranger who might have hidden intentions toward the client he’d pledged to protect.
Kash pushed his lunch aside and frowned at Rebecca as she ate. Talk to me, he ordered mentally.
“Smart monkey,” she said, her gaze riveted to the tiny, agile animal that was peeling fruit for its owner, a street peddler, under an awning just outside the café. “I wonder if it knows that I like to squeeze an orange slice into my coffee?”
A quick flood of understanding made Kash tilt his head and look at her pensively. “Ah-ha. You had your darkest vice exposed, and you’re feeling threatened.”
“No more than usual, since I met you.”
She switched her cool gaze to him with the directness he’d craved all morning. The blue of her eyes was even more vibrant, accented by the blue-and-gold silk dress he’d given her at her room. The traditional Thai skirt wrapped around her snugly and reached her midcalf, and the matching top fit closely and was nipped in at the waist, with short, capped sleeves and a stand-up collar. When she swung her head a certain way, her brunette hair caught at the gold
piping along the collar’s edge. He fought a constant desire to reach over and caress the different textures. The smooth skin of her throat invited his touch, as well.
“I’m not accustomed to having someone investigate me behind my back,” she said scornfully. “I guess I expected you to investigate me face to face, listen to what I had to say about myself and my background, and see for yourself that I’m telling the truth.”
“Look at it this way. Through the miracle of modern communication, since yesterday I’ve acquired an extensive file on you from my researchers in America. They’ve confirmed all the basic facts. You’re twenty-six years old, have a degree in commercial art, sold your first cartoon in high school, lived with your father until you were twenty-three, teach Methodist Sunday school, own a small, neat house in a small, neat town, and make approximately thirty thousand dollars a year selling a cartoon strip about life in small-town America.” He paused to take a sip of his tea.
She watched him wide-eyed, her mouth open. “Go on.”
“According to newspaper articles in your hometown paper, you’re widely regarded as odd but likable, and the only scandal in your life occurred last year, when you broke your engagement to the mayor’s eldest son, one Leonard ‘Leon’ Cranshaw, who had been your steady since junior year in high school, where he was voted ‘Most Likely to Wear White Dress Shoes and Plaid Jackets.’ I’m very curious about Leon.”
“He was a nice guy, with clean fingernails and no imagination. I don’t appreciate you bringing him into this. Or checking up on me at all.”
Kash raised his hands in supplication. Secretly he was pleased. She’d showed good taste in ridding herself of Leon. “You weren’t meant to have a safe, boring relationship with a man.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manners, for the advice.”
“I’m sorry my investigation makes you angry. But consider this—now I don’t have to wonder if you’re really who and what you say you are.” He spread his hands magnanimously. “I’ve put us light-years ahead in getting to know each other.”
“Oh? Will you give me all the details of your life, so we’ll be even?”
He nodded, then leaned forward and propped his chin on one hand. “I’m thirty years old, I have a business degree from Harvard, I work for my adopted father’s private security service, I’m unmarried, honest, honorable, but not the most lighthearted person in the world. I’m a firm believer in not believing. If anyone hurts my loved ones, they hurt me. If I’m assigned to do a job, I finish it. I know how to fight. There. You know me.”
“Thanks for the detailed info. I’ll write it down on the back of a stamp.”
“I’ve told you what you want to hear. It’s the truth. If I told you more, you wouldn’t like it. I’d never fit in with your warm little vision of the world.”
She chuckled fiendishly. “I’ve already made up much worse stories about you than could ever be true. So talk.”
Kash shook his head slowly, and watched the taunt fade from her eyes. He had the disturbing notion that she sensed the darkness in him, and he wondered if she was afraid of him. The thought that someone like her would be shocked or disgusted by his childhood didn’t surprise him. He’d been careful over the years never to discuss his past with anyone, after a few pitying and repulsed people had hurt him with their reactions.
“You can’t imagine,” he said grimly. “But never fear, the dragon won’t breathe fire on your angel wings.”
She brought her chopsticks up in the air as if she wanted to reach across the table and pinch him. “So now that you’ve used some kind of sleazy private-eye team to check on me, am I innocent? Does it matter that I’m exactly what I said I am?”
“It helps. And by the way, the organization I work for—my father’s organization—is one of the most respected private intelligence groups in the world. We take only high-level cases. In fact, this minor job for the Vatan family is only a favor. My father was an old friend of Mayura’s uncle. Ordinarily we specialize in international terrorism and kidnapping cases.”
She looked suspicious but intrigued. “You must make a lot of money.”
“At times. But I was adopted into a wealthy man’s home, so neither he nor I do this work for the money. My father is interested in giving something beneficial back to society. And we do.”
“Why should I believe that, when you won’t believe me?”
“I have no reason to deceive you. No personal involvement with the Vatan family. Nothing to gain.”
“So you say. But you think I could be lying about my reasons for wanting to meet Mayura?”
“Exactly. It’s my job to be suspicious.”
“No, I think it comes naturally to you.” She made a growling sound of disgust, dropped her chopsticks on the table, and rose abruptly. Snagging the small white purse she’d bought to match the white flats she wore, she slung the long strap over her shoulder, gave Kash a menacing look, and walked away.
He tossed some bills on the table and went after her, sliding his hand around her bare forearm as he caught up with her on the crowded sidewalk. The contact brought them both to an abrupt, highly charged stop. “Be patient, Corn Blossom,” he said as lightly as he could. “We’re making progress.”
“You’re making progress,” she retorted, “but I’m getting a royal Siamese pain.”
“Let’s walk and enjoy the scenery. A block or two from here we can stroll along one of the prettier canals.”
“I don’t ‘stroll’ in this elastic bandage of a skirt, I wiggle.”
“Yes,” he admitted, giving her a sideways glance. “Every inch of you. That’s the scenery I was referring to.”
A flush crept up her cheeks, but she squinted at him defiantly. “Since you’ve found out everything about me, you must know that I’ve never worn anything provocative in my whole life. So why’d you buy this dress for me—as a joke?”
Kash dropped the taunting attitude and looked at her with a troubled frown. “Take a chance. Be who you want to be. I suspect you want a dress like this, that you’re dying to be admired for something a little more exciting than your good manners.”
“Nothing in a research file could have told you that.”
“No,” he agreed. His fingers ached to stroke the satiny skin of her arm. “Sometimes a man just goes by instinct. And hands-on experience. Judging by what my instincts tell me, I predict you’ll be completely corrupted by the time I’m done with you. You won’t know your wiggle from your walk.”
“That can work both ways, Santelli. I’ll have you so turned upside down that you won’t be able to find your cynical attitude from a hole in the ground. You’ll be ready to join the PTA and sing in the church choir.”
Kash gave her a tightly controlled smile. She chortled. “You’re worried,” she proclaimed victoriously. “You’re actually worried.”
Feeling undone, he pushed her firmly along the sidewalk. “Wiggle,” he growled. Her accuracy and continuing laughter, a soft, pleased snicker, pestered him, making him want to tell her how ill-suited he was for her fantasy. Everything he’d survived and all the years of adjustment afterward had turned him into a loner, guarded about his emotions, bewildered by the family life he saw all around him. He thought even Audubon, who had tried very hard to help him adjust, never expected him to fit in.
“Why so quiet, Dragon?” she asked slyly several minutes later, when they were threading their way along a canal dock crammed with Thai shoppers and lined with peddlers.
“I’m enjoying a daydream.” He nodded toward the murky water. “What a colorful splash you’d make.”
She turned to scowl at him, but his attention was already taken by three Thai men who were idly browsing through a vendor’s silver trinkets. Alarm raced through his blood. Casually he took Rebecca’s arm. “Don’t turn around and stare at them, and don’t appear shocked. But we may have an unwanted audience.”
Her face paled. “Who?”
“Three men over by the silversmith’s cart. They were o
utside the restaurant when we left. It’s just odd that they’d end up here too.”
She didn’t flinch. His admiration for her steady nerves translated to his hand’s reassuring squeeze on her arm. “Do you think the Nalinat family is after me?” she asked.
“I think they’re convinced you know where Mayura is. If they can find her, they’ll try to force a marriage between her and their son.”
“Is that legal in Thailand?”
“In this part of the world family relations and saving face are more important than the law.”
“But I can’t tell them anything. Couldn’t we just explain to the Nalinat family that I’m an outsider to this whole feud?”
“They’d never believe it.”
She trembled against his hand, though her face remained calm. “I’m not some kind of spy for them, I swear it. Even if you never believe my story about Mayura being my half sister, even if you always suspect my motives for coming here to meet her, don’t ever turn me over to the Nalinats.”
The desperation in her voice sent a white-hot surge of protectiveness through Kash, even though such fierce gallantry made him feel a little foolish. The world wasn’t made of heroes, only human beings trying to save what little hope and happiness they could. “What, you’d rather stay with me?” he asked in a gruffly teasing tone. “You find me preferable to a family of scheming, coldblooded Nalinats?”
Her mouth crooked up at one corner. “Only a little.”
“Good. Then come on. Well make sure those apes over there can’t follow us.”
He grabbed her hand and led her down a set of weathered wooden steps to the edge of the canal. It was packed with long, flat boats, each guided by peddlers who squatted in the rear under small canopies, with their wares spread out in the hull for people on the street to see. Merchants would maneuver to the docks for shoppers to reach them. Farther out, bigger boats with cylindrical coverings were home to entire families and their merchandise. To Rebecca, the big boats resembled floating Quonset huts.
“Step carefully and follow me,” Kash instructed her. Then, to an old man seated in one of the small boats crowded up to the dock, he said in Thai that even Rebecca could understand, “Excuse us, please.”
Heart of the Dragon Page 6