Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  He’d never known such attraction, so much so he’d at first wondered if his exhausted mind had been playing tricks on him. But not any more. Not after that incredible experience of tending her injured driver with her, and everything that had come before and after it. Every word lashing him, every glance penetrating him, every breath singeing him. It was real. More than real. It was overwhelming him into breaking a code he’d lived by since he’d turned seventeen. A code he’d thought unbreakable.

  He never made the first move towards a woman. Or the second, or the last. It had been he who had received advances, and had shunned them mostly. That had still left many, maybe even too many he’d decided to accept. But he had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, always making sure these women were totally free to make such advances, were looking for similar transient entertainment and understood in advance the details of what to expect from him. Utmost courtesy, thorough gratification—and whatever he saw fit to bestow on them besides that—and an amicable, swift and final parting of the ways.

  But none of that applied here. His code, his rules were nowhere to be found. And that when she’d certainly made no advances, in any form, just the opposite. While he was certainly making them. And though indignant, and resistant, she, too, was at the mercy of this incredible affinity. He was certain of it.

  He now held those eyes that had so far reflected such an entrancing mixture of steel and softness, resourcefulness and guile-lessness. They were now twin displays of total shock.

  Then he spoke into his phone. “And here I thought the Jay Latimer I was on my way to meet was a man. This has to be the misunderstanding of a lifetime.”

  And he was now certain why Shaaker had tried his best to dissuade him from taking over this meeting. The sly desert jackal hadn’t wanted to give the opportunity up.

  Malek chuckled at how things had turned out, at the way she kept the phone glued to her ear, her stare widening.

  “I guess I don’t need to tell you what kept me from our appointment,” he murmured again, still into the phone. “Or beg your forgiveness for having to be even later.”

  She snatched her phone from her ear as if it had burned her, looked from it and back to him in what he could only describe as horror. And he couldn’t believe how her distress disturbed him.

  He snapped his phone shut and turned fully to her, anxious to dispel it, and the change in his position brought his thigh against hers, only managing to deepen her—and his—agitation.

  He readjusted his pose, severed the contact. Even when it was the last thing he wanted to do. He just had to soothe her.

  “If not for the accident,” he began, keeping his voice tranquil, as if gentling a skittish mare, “and for my and my men’s role in it, I’d say this is a very happy occasion. For us to meet before the arranged time, over a matter of life and death. There’s no introduction to beat coming together to fight for another’s life. You must agree this just has to be fate.”

  And Jay agreed. A cruel one.

  He was the one who’d evaluate her eligibility? That big shot from Damhoor’s Ministry of Interior or rather, with him being a doctor, from the Ministry of Health?

  And she’d insulted him in every way she could think of!

  That was, she had between the episodes when she’d stared at him open-mouthed and glassy-eyed betraying her helpless reaction to him. Still, she was sure he was used to such a reaction. He no doubt waded in women who threw themselves at his feet and pursued him to any lengths. And while she’d never do either, just that he must have read her reactions made this situation untenable.

  Even if he hadn’t noticed her almost swooning, just sitting near him, he’d noticed her heaping disdain on him without pausing to ask who he was. Not the level-headed professional image she’d hoped to project …

  “So is Jay your real name, or is it an initial?” His question severed her hectic contemplations, the intimacy permeating his awesome voice fizzing in her blood.

  It took seconds to process his question, to force herself out of her trance to choke an answer. “It’s—it’s an initial.”

  “Standing for …?” he pressed moments later when she didn’t elaborate.

  “Janaan,” she croaked.

  “Janaan?” His hushed tone attested to his astonishment far more than a shout would have. A long moment passed when only the smooth whir of the engine permeated the silence, then he inclined his head at her, his eyes probing, tinged with wonder. “That’s an Arabic name.”

  Oh, yes, she knew that. All too well.

  “And not any Arabic name. But Janaan” He said her name as if he were tasting it, made it sound lush and unique, almost magical, a name she’d always been uncomfortable with, had never used in full. “Will your surprises never cease?”

  He waited, as if he expected her to answer. When she just stared back at him mutely, he exhaled, sat forward, extended his hand to her. And this time, when she once more gave him hers without volition, his grip was neither feathery nor ephemeral.

  “Well, Janaan Latimer of the ceaseless surprises, we’ve met under difficult circumstances. Let’s start again, shall we?” He gave her hand a tiny squeeze. “It was a great honor to work with you, and as great a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Dr. Malek Aal Hamdaan, at your service.”

  Every word he uttered was like an electric current jolting through her heart. She felt she was suffocating on it as she groped for something to say, something to stop his advance through her barriers. “I prefer Jay—or—or Dr. Latimer …”

  He waved this hand of his, the epitome of strength and elegance, the very expression of power and entitlement. “You’ll have to forgive me for defying your wishes, but now I know your name, I can never call you anything but Janaan.”

  She opened her mouth to contest his presumption, to insist on keeping the distance of formality—and realization knocked her mouth shut on the semi-formed protest.

  He was an Aal Hamdaan. That was the name of the royal family of Damhoor. He was one of them!

  Of course he was, moron.

  Hadn’t she known she was on her way to meet some sheikh who had his position by having been born a royal? And though she’d had a ridiculously inaccurate mental image of him, that Malek was that sheikh should have been the first thing she’d realized the moment she’d heard his voice mocking her on the other end of the line.

  But that was assuming she had any mental faculties left functional. She was sinking deeper into shock. And it only made her angrier that even now his effect on her was deepening.

  “I may not be able to stop you from calling me whatever you want,” she quavered. “But don’t blame anyone but yourself if I refuse to answer to anything but the names I specified.”

  He went totally still. He didn’t even give off any vibes. She couldn’t tell what his reaction to her impertinence was. Or maybe that stillness was answer enough.

  Then he moved closer, and drawled, “Can you be this cruel? Depriving me of the pleasure of calling you by this name that so suits you?”

  “Since it’s a stupid name, I now know what you think of me.” But he’d be right. She was being stupid. Big time.

  She’d always held her tongue, never voiced her ready, blunt opinions. But now, when she should be exercising her lifelong restraint most, here she was doing her best to offend and alienate this man who must have oodles of power, who was the one who had the say in whether she’d stay in Damhoor. Where she so desperately wanted to stay.

  But contrary to looking offended and alienated, he seemed elated. “How can you even think that a name that means one’s very heart and mind and soul is stupid? And beyond its evocative meaning, its very sound is exquisite—refined, flowing, feminine. Surely you know you more than live up to it, in every way?”

  Did this guy have an advanced degree in flirtation? If there were some championship in it, he must hold the title. But was he flirting? It felt as if he meant every word.

  Of course you’d like to think that,
idiot.

  And then what would she do with his sincere admiration? He was so out of her league and this was so transient that even letting herself feel good about it—if she could feel anything in her agitation, that was—was pointless.

  Then he added to her agitation. “So, Janaan Latimer, now our appointment has become irrelevant, I can think of nothing better than to escort you to an early lunch.”

  Jay gaped. This—this god was asking her out to lunch?

  OK, so he was telling her he was taking her to lunch, but it amounted to the same thing. And she was certain he hadn’t intended to take the man he’d thought he’d meet out to lunch.

  So was it because the unusual circumstances had broken the formality with which he would have received her had things gone to plan? Or was it that he wanted to prolong their time together as his eyes were telling her, as his words corroborated?

  And just what was it with her today?

  He was just being courteous, and she was constructing intricate delusions on what she thought she saw in his eyes, heard in his words. She’d been having what she could only call a breakdown of sanity since she’d laid eyes on him!

  She shook her head to dispel the feeling of sinking deeper under a spell, his spell. “Thanks for the generous offer, but I have to decline. And I don’t see why our appointment has become irrelevant. We can still have the interview. We can even have it here. If you’ll just ask me what you intended to, then let me take a taxi back to my hotel, I’d be most grateful.”

  Malek stared at Janaan as if she’d started talking in a language he’d never heard before.

  She’d just refused him.

  He’d invited her to lunch and she’d refused him.

  So he hadn’t exactly invited her, he amended inwardly. He’d stated his desire to have her company, his intention to have it, not for a second thinking there was any possibility of her turning him down.

  But she had. Not only that, but she’d done it with such an adorable mixture of resoluteness, hauteur and shyness that it was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out and hauling her into his arms. Which would be crazy.

  But with every passing second it seemed less crazy, was becoming all he could think of doing … Ehda ya rejjal.

  His self-rebuke to calm down wasn’t all that brought the overpowering urge under precarious control. Just the thought that he might distress her in any way—though he was certain she hadn’t feared him for a second—was enough to leash him in.

  He still couldn’t stop himself from leaning closer into her aura, watching her, greedy for her every nuance as he murmured, “We’ve already discussed the impossibility of me leaving you here, or anywhere else. And we can conduct our interview all that much better over a meal cooked with passion and to perfection and served with all the charm and cordiality of my kingdom. As you’ve already pointed out, you’re a guest in my land. Let me show you how valued you are, let me give you a welcome worthy of you.”

  He marveled at her reaction, at its explicitness. He could feel his every word’s impact on her, could sense her reeling, struggling to right herself. He was certain she was fighting the urge to blurt out an acceptance, was convinced she’d delivered her first refusal as an involuntary conditioning not to accept a man’s overtures at once. Yet from her reaction it was clear she hadn’t thought he’d press her, was flailing now that he had.

  He was incapable of doing anything else. He had to have more of her. She had to accept. And any moment now, she would.

  She inhaled a deep breath. He did, too, held it, waiting for the words that would assure him of more time with her.

  “That’s very generous of you,” she started, a delightful wobble making a heart-tingling tremolo of every second syllable. Yes. Her next words would be the craved acceptance. “But I again insist on concluding this now.” What? “I am a guest in Damhoor only in terms of being new here, but I’m not here as a tourist. I’m here to work. So if we can just get down to business, this would be the only welcome I’d appreciate.”

  Anticipation whooshed out of him, frustration rushing in to fill its void, shooting to unknown levels.

  No one had ever refused him before. Not once, let alone twice. Certainly never a woman. It was he who refused women’s offers, had never been interested enough to make any himself.

  Now he was, and he’d offered, twice, and twice she’d turned him down.

  It had to be his offering skills. They were non-existent. He’d better develop some. Fast.

  But until he got his bearings, found out how she could be approached, her reticence overcome, he needed time and. Wait!

  She had just given him the key to securing that time, far longer than what the most leisurely lunch could have afforded him.

  He smiled down on her. “So you’re interested in getting down to business, eh? How about we bypass the interview and head directly to where business is conducted? Surely you wouldn’t refuse me escorting you to your new base on Damhoorian soil.”

  She blinked. “What …? Where do you mean?”

  “GAO’s newly opened base of operations in the kingdom. As I understand it, you signed up in the old office. I think you’ll be very interested to see the new facilities and go over the specifics of GAO’s expanded mission in the region.”

  She stared at him, a dozen emotions struggling for dominance over her expressive features. Chagrin, interest, frustration, curiosity, agitation, bashfulness. He was interested in one in particular right now. Capitulation.

  When he judged it had overridden all other reactions, he whispered his challenge, “So what will it be, Janaan?”

  She gulped, another rush of peach staining her velvet cheeks. Then she finally sighed. “Oh, all right.”

  Her muttered concession was the most welcome thing he’d ever heard in his life. It was also the last thing she said. At least the longest. He only managed to get monosyllables out of her from then on. He was certain it was her way of showing him how angry she was that he’d cornered her, that she’d succumbed to his maneuvers. He was also certain anger was a mere impurity tainting her real emotions, all hot and eager and overriding.

  He got to her as badly as she got to him. And the best and unprecedented thing was that it was him who got to her, not who he was.

  He knew she had no idea who he was as she was treating him with no deference at all. Even after she’d found out he was someone important, at least to her, she’d remained as painfully, delightfully forthright as she’d been from moment one. He doubted she’d change her tune even when she found out exactly who he was. This was another unprecedented occurrence that he.

  “Is this it?”

  Her subdued yet awed question brought him out of his elated musings.

  And, indeed, their destination was in sight. The sprawling establishment erected to serve the joint efforts of GAO and his kingdom’s Ministry of Health.

  Its sight somehow brought reality and full wakefulness descending on him with a flat-fisted thump.

  What in Ullah’s name had he been thinking, feeling—doing?

  What did he think he was about to do?

  He should drop her off, give orders for her to be given every courtesy and service as long as she stayed in Damhoor and make sure he never saw her again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “IS SOMETHING WRONG?”

  Malek saw Janaan’s clear blue eyes clouding with confusion, and wondered how to answer her.

  “Everything is wrong” didn’t appeal as a reply. Even though it was the only answer. The truth.

  If he’d succumbed to this lightning-bolt attraction within minutes of meeting her, and now had to exert all his will to keep his hands off her, who knew what he’d be tempted to do if he had her in close proximity for much longer?

  The answer to that was certain. And if he’d thought he had enough upheavals to deal with, those certainly paled in comparison with what any level of involvement with her—a foreign woman and a doctor coming to his region in a wort
hy relief effort—would be. It was out of the question that he.

  “OK, I don’t feel the extra head I’ve grown.” Janaan ran both her hands over her head. “But the look in your eyes is making me certain it’s there.”

  And he laughed. Ya Ullah, that was all he needed. To find out she had a sense of humor. One that tickled him so readily.

  “It would be more of a good thing in your case.” He barely caught back the hand that longed to mimic her actions and shook his head, attempting to clear it, to shake off the urge. “I apologize for blanking out on you. It seems I’m not fully awake.”

  And what he wouldn’t give to blame exhaustion for it all. But he couldn’t. He’d been exposed to many kinds of danger in his life, but nothing compared to the potential hazard of prolonging his exposure to her. Sanity was crying out for him to end this. And he would. He had to.

  He dropped her gaze, stepped out of the car the moment it came to a halt, came around to her.

  He thought it a terrible idea to touch her again but out of bounds of his will, his hand asked for hers. “Shall we?”

  She gave it to him, her own inability to resist surging with her color, her lips trembling as she sprang out of the car at the same moment he gave her a supporting tug. Both actions brought her full against him.

  It was only a second before Janaan staggered back, severing the contact. And that second had been enough to tell him that his worst projections were nothing. His body had never roared with arousal like that.

  “S-so … w-when did all this get built?”

  He looked down at her and his chest tightened with regret. She glowed under his kingdom’s sun, from the inside out. He narrowed his eyes against her radiance more than against the sun, read her attempt to jog him back to reality.

  She succeeded in making him aware of their audience. His men, hovering around, waiting for his orders. He turned to them and delivered them. Arranging the end of this magical interlude.

  With his plan in motion he felt less guilty, even felt entitled to let his hand run up her exposed arm, wrap around its satin resilience as he steered her inside the building, telling himself that the shudder that engulfed his body was due to the transition from the blistering heat to the interior’s coolness.