by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Elena waited until the crowd dispersed and only a few members of the fire brigade remained to keep an eye on the hot building, before she left. She and Hassan walked toward the parking lot alone.
They had almost reached his newly leased black truck when she finally spoke, her voice low. "If you ever do anything so stupid again, I will personally have your hide."
"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.
"You heard me."
"Yes, but I was wondering what you might do with my hide if it was yours?"
"Don't make light of this," she said sharply. "You could have been killed."
"But I was not."
"But..." As they reached the truck, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to the driver's side. Here they could not be seen from the active work area of the refinery.
"You were worried about me?" he asked softly, pulling her up against him.
"Of course not. No more worried than I would have been for any one of my men."
"Am I one of your men, Elena?" He trapped her against the truck, his hard body almost touching hers. She had never been more aware of his height, the width of his shoulders and the strength there.
Her heart kicked, her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. She didn't allow herself that luxury. "Hassan, this isn't..."
"Right, proper, a good time," he interrupted. "I know. But ever since I came out of that smoke-filled building and saw you standing there, I've wanted to do this." He lowered his face toward hers. His hand gripped her wrist, his too-near body kept her there, trapped against the door of the truck. "To be honest, I have wanted to do this for a much longer time, and I do not think I can wait any more."
Elena knew if she told him to knock it off, he would. All she had to do was whisper, "no," and he would back away before their lips ever touched. She said nothing.
She knew it was coming, she had known for days that this kiss was coming, and still the power of it took her breath away. Nothing touched, but Hassan's hand at her wrist and his mouth on hers, and still she felt the kiss everywhere. Inside, outside, all around. It was the kind of kiss that could change a woman, she suspected. Make her want more, make her expect...more.
Hassan's mouth moved over hers, the grip at her wrist loosened and his fingers began to rock there. Only vaguely did she realize that he tasted faintly of smoke. Her hand came up to rest on his waist. She needed that touch, to remain grounded while the kiss took her soaring.
Finally he took his mouth away, and when he did he sighed and laid his forehead against hers.
"Maybe we should forget about the picnic," she said, trying to sound calm and collected. "You're tired, I'm tired, it's been a very long day."
"No," he whispered. "I'm not going to give up one moment with you, Elena." No one had ever said her name quite that way before. Just hearing the sound coming from Hassan's mouth made her shiver.
She heard so much in that simple sentence. Hassan knew, as well as she did, that his time here was short. And like him, she wasn't going to give up one moment.
Chapter 5
Kissing Elena had been a mistake, he'd known it an instant before his lips had met hers. Mistake or not, he couldn't have stopped at that point, any more than he could stop breathing.
When he'd stepped out of that burning building and seen her face, worried and angry and then obviously relieved, he'd known that he couldn't wait much longer to take the kiss he'd been thinking about for two days.
After the excitement at the refinery, the fire and the kiss, Elena had gone home and he'd returned to his hotel to shower and change clothes. But being apart did nothing to remove her from his mind.
Hassan believed in his heart that Elena was not involved with the Brothers of Darkness, but he had no proof. He was here to spy on her, to learn what he could about the Brothers and the location of the prince. If he got involved with her, if he found himself distracted by a beautiful woman and discovered nothing...no one would be surprised. His father would not be surprised by his failure. Even Rashid, who told him not to be a hero...
This was his first chance, and perhaps his last, to prove himself. He would not fail.
Hassan pulled his newly leased truck into the hospital parking lot and turned to Elena, who sat so solemnly in the passenger seat. "Dinner is on ice, so we can stay here as long as you like. I know you're concerned about your employee."
She laid serious, tired eyes on his face. "You don't even know his name, do you?" she asked softly. "You saved his life, and you don't know his name."
"I heard someone call him Chet."
Elena laid her hand on the door handle. "Chet Rankin. His father used to work for us, and his brother is on another shift. I practically saw him grow up, first at company picnics and holiday parties, and then on the job." She shook her head. "He's still such a kid."
The young man who had been injured was one of the few Hassan had not met, since he was in maintenance and spent most of his work days in the machine shop. Elena obviously cared about the young man, in the same way she cared for all her employees.
"I'm glad he's going to be all right."
Elena's face softened, and then broke into a small smile. "I called the hospital before you picked me up and talked to Chefs mother. The doctors say he'll probably be home in a few days. Your quick action saved Chet from the burns he surely would have suffered if he hadn't gotten out when he did."
"Good."
Her hand rested on the door handle, but she didn't move. Her entire body tensed visibly. "I can't believe you ran into that building."
"You are still angry."
"Yes, I'm still angry," she said, sounding frustrated. "You could have died in there."
" Chet surely would have if I hadn't gone in."
The anger on her face faded. "I know, but..."
"You take good care of your people," he interrupted. He didn't think Elena would dare to admit that she cared for him, just a little, but if she did.. .he would be lost. This was tough enough as it was.
A heavily sedated Chet Rankin was sleeping, and a vigilant nurse refused to allow anyone into his room. Elena spoke to the family, a weepy mother and a white-faced father who sat in the waiting room, two brothers who paced. Elena didn't say hello and leave, she sat. She comforted. When the elder Rankin realized who Hassan was, that this was the man who had gone into the fire after his son, Hassan was subjected to an embarrassing display of gratitude. Mrs. Rankin even insisted on giving him a big hug, and promised to feed him a good Texas dinner once Chet was home.
When Hassan and Elena finally made their way back to the parking lot, the light of day was already dying. So much for their picnic. Instead of taking her home, Hassan drove a silent Elena to an almost deserted parking lot that looked over the bay. He parked beneath a streetlamp that came on moments after they pulled into the lot, and rolled down the windows.
"We should do this another time," Elena said, her eyes on the bay. "It's late, we're both tired." She sighed. "Maybe we should just call it a day."
Hassan reached into the narrow cab seat behind him and grabbed the cooler he had packed, placing it between him and Elena. He opened the cooler, handed Elena a bottle of water, and then folded the top back so she could see inside. "And throw all this away?" He grabbed two chilled glasses wrapped in clear wrap from the ice-filled cooler. "Chocolate mousse from Leon's."
He looked down, and Elena followed his gaze. On seeing the contents of the cooler, she actually smiled.
"Chocolate pie from Molly's," he continued. "Chocolate dip for the fruit, chocolate cake from the hotel dining room, and chocolate kisses." The silver wrapped candies were scattered over everything in the cooler, sparkling in the light of the setting sun.
"Just dessert?" Elena asked.
"Indulge yourself," he answered.
She lifted her head and her grin widened. "I've never seen so much chocolate in one place in all my life. This must be heaven."
"You are the kind of special woman, Elena Rah
man, who might make a man do anything to see that smile, to give you everything you've ever wanted."
"No, I'm not," she whispered, her smile fading.
After returning the mousse to the cooler, Hassan reached into the back seat and grabbed the bag that contained silver forks and spoons and linen napkins. "You are," he said, unable to look at her. "And you have had a very bad day."
Except for that kiss. It was the bright spot in an otherwise terrible day. One of those unforgettable moments. And yes.. .it had been a mistake.
Hassan removed a napkin from the bag and handed it to Elena. She placed it on her lap as he reached into the cooler and lifted one of the fluted glasses of mousse and unwrapped it. He dipped out a spoonful and let his hand drift toward Elena.
"You're going to feed me?" she asked, smiling again.
"Yes," he said. "And for once, do not argue with me."
Elena looked as though she were considering doing just that, but when the spoon approached she parted her lips and allowed him to slip the mousse-filled spoon into her mouth. She closed her lips over the silver, and he slowly pulled the utensil from her lips.
"See?" he said as she closed her eyes and swallowed. "Not so bad."
"You're spoiling me," she said softly.
"Someone needs to," he countered.
Elena was tough, a woman doing a man's job. She was everything a proper Arab woman was not. And at the moment Hassan wanted nothing more than to feed her, wrap her in a soft blanket, and hold her close until she slept. He had a feeling it had been a long time since anyone had comforted her in any way.
"Why do you not have a man to feed you?" he asked, a little angry that she had given up so much for her business. For her business alone, or for the Brothers? He hated the indecision that slipped into his mind.
"You never have gotten over the fact that the CEO of Rahman Oil is a woman, have you?" she asked with a small smile.
"Don't change the subject." He fed her another spoonful of mousse. "We're not talking about business. Why aren't you married? You should have children, a husband..."
"You're beginning to sound like Kitty," Elena interrupted, her voice a bit too tight. "Many women choose career over family, these days. I know that's a foreign concept to you, but..."
"You need more than Rahman Oil to make you happy," he said gruffly. "I can see it in you, this yearning for so much more. A family. A life beyond the refinery."
Even in the fading light, he could see her blush. "If you must know, I was engaged once, a long time ago."
The man in the photograph, he assumed. Johnny. "What happened? Did he break your heart? Did he leave you for another woman? Why have you made this career your life?"
"He died," she said, apparently trying to snap at him but finding herself unable to be completely cold. Her eyes filled with tears. A couple quickly spilled down her cheeks.
Hassan silently cursed himself. "I'm sorry."
"Would you just take me home, please?"
"No." He set the mousse on ice and closed the cooler. "I should have kept my questions to myself. We don't have to talk about the past." Or the future, which was so uncertain he could not even tell Elena he would be here two days from now.
Hassan reached out and grasped the back of Elena's head in his hand. His fingers threaded through her silky hair, his palm cupped her warm skin. She didn't shake him off, or pull back, but lifted her head to look him in the eye. Kissing her this afternoon had been a mistake, and he was about to make the same mistake again. He leaned over the cooler, drawing her closer as he moved near.
"I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered.
"I'm not crying."
"I know." Hassan laid his lips on Elena's and kissed her quickly. It was meant to be a comforting kiss, nothing more, but his mouth lingered. She tasted of chocolate and tears, this woman he could not get out of his mind, and once again he was filled with the need to comfort her, to take her into his arms and under his wing and keep the ugliness of the world at bay. Her mother had been gone a long time. Had her father ever cared for her in the way a father should? Or had Elena drifted through the hard times in her life alone? Perhaps that solitude had made her the woman she was today, perhaps having no one but herself to rely on had made her an independent woman.
But no one should be alone.
She answered his kiss, gently drawing her breath in to taste him as he tasted her. Those fine lips trembled. Not with fear, he knew, but with a rapidly growing desire.
Hassan took his lips from Elena's and gave her a wicked grin he did not feel in his heart. "No more tears," he commanded.
"Yes, sir," she said, trying for a smile herself, a twist of her lips that was as heartfelt as his own.
"It's been a long day." He opened the cooler once again. "Chocolate, more chocolate, and then you need to get to bed." Alone, unfortunately.
A knock on the front door intruded on her sleep, and Elena rolled over and glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. Five-thirty in the morning! At first she was annoyed, and then she bolted up, coming wide awake. Something was wrong. Someone else was hurt. Dead.
She threw back the covers and jumped from the bed, her heart in her throat as she raked her fingers through her hair and raced toward the front door to the sounds of yet another soft knock. Hand on the doorknob, she looked through the peephole. And froze.
Hassan Kamal, wide awake and perfectly healthy, stood in the hallway.
The fear was replaced by shock. "What do you want?"
"I told you I would make you coffee this morning."
"At the office," she seethed.
"Is there a kitchen at the office?"
"No."
"I thought not."
"Just a minute." Elena turned around and walked slowly toward the bedroom. Her blue cotton pajamas were perfectly decent. She didn't have any nightwear that wasn't decent. But she'd feel vulnerable answering the door in her pj's, with Hassan standing there wide awake and fully dressed. She grabbed a thick robe from her closet, slipped it on and belted it tightly, and headed toward the door again.
As she neared the door, she heard his soft knock once more.
"You're so impatient," she muttered as she spun the dead bolt and opened the door.
As Hassan stepped into her condominium, he grinned and looked her up and down with appreciative eyes. He had to be kidding. She wore no makeup, she had bed-head, and this robe was thick and shapeless. What was there to appreciate?
"Why on earth," she said as she closed the door behind Hassan, "are you up this early?"
"I couldn't sleep," he said, pulling his eyes from her to glance around her living room, taking everything in.
Her condo was a good size for one person, over two thousand square feet. This living room was the largest of all the rooms, wide and long and made for entertaining. Elena never entertained, unless she counted the times Kitty had come over for dinner.
She'd decorated the place herself, using a mixture of Southwest style and weathered antiques. Her main concern, when it came to furniture, was comfort. The blue couch was fat, but not too soft. The chairs arranged around the couch in a conversation area, low, fat chairs in varying shades of coral-pink, had all been chosen with relaxation in mind. She'd sat in each and every one of them before buying.
The weathered bookshelf was full. Novels, mostly, though there were a few industry manuals on one shelf. An array of plants were arranged on the antique credenza against one wall. As long as she remembered to water the plants once a week, they thrived.
There were lots of candles in the room, candles in the same shades as the couch and chairs. Other than the plants and the candles, the place was fairly spartan. She didn't want or need a collection of knickknacks to dust. She'd spent many an evening alone in this room. Reading, watching TV. Not this week, though. This week she'd been too busy to crash on the couch all alone.
Hassan stopped studying the room and turned his eyes to her. Black, piercing eyes that seemed to house a thousand secr
ets. A thousand desires. Not quite awake, caught off guard, she couldn't help but think of yesterday's kisses. For the past eight years she had kept her distance, where men were concerned. The few social engagements she'd had since Johnny's death had been strictly business, and had ended with a handshake, not a kiss. She had forgotten how powerful a romantic kiss could be, how deep it could reach.
From the bedroom, the sound of her alarm interrupted her inappropriate musings. She spun around and presented her back to Hassan. "Kitchen's that way," she said, pointing toward the arched opening in the wall that led to the dining room. The large kitchen was just beyond. "Have at it. I'm going to take a shower and get dressed."
* * *
The coffee was boiling, the small porcelain cups he had purchased sat waiting on the counter of Elena's ultra modern kitchen. The shower had stopped, so Hassan hurried as he searched through the files on Elena's home computer. Fortunately she had used the same password here as she had at the office. That lapse had saved him a lot of time.
One of the three bedrooms had been converted to a home office. He hadn't had time to carefully study all the paper files, but in rifling through he had seen nothing but standard paperwork. On the computer, he discovered nothing but that Elena played a lot of FreeCell.
The low hum of Elena's hair dryer ceased. She would be out soon, dressed and wondering what he was doing in her office. Hassan's instincts told him time was up. He spun the chair around and left the room as he had found it, returning to the kitchen just in time to take the specially purchased coffeepot from the stove. A moment later, Elena joined him.
He had caught her off guard this morning, and was glad. Just from bed she'd looked tumbled, fresh, more inviting than she knew. Now, showered, dressed for a day at the refinery and newly fortified, she was again the woman he had come to expect. Her shield was in place, her business face on, her armor up.