Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  How long had it been since she'd felt security like this? Too long.

  “You're quiet,” he murmured.

  “Thinking,” she whispered.

  “About what?”

  “Things.”

  “What things?”

  She shook with a silent laugh. He was impossible. “Just things.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Security,” she said, and wished she could have taken it back.

  “What, my security? They won't bother us.”

  “I didn't mean your men.”

  “Life security? Job security?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Money?”

  “Are you always this pushy?”

  “Are you always this evasive?”

  “I'm not evasive,” she countered. “But some things aren't easy to tell.”

  “So you're a woman with secrets.”

  “Aren't you a man with secrets?” He was discombobulating her, making her say things she didn't want to say. What she needed to do was close her mouth and fast. He was, for all intents and purposes, the enemy.

  “What kinds of secrets do you suppose I have?”

  “You're evasive, too,” she said, unable to keep a grin from her mouth. Bantering with him was exciting, stimulating. And dangerous.

  He rumbled a laugh. “I can be.”

  “Women are staring,” she said without looking at the crowd. It was a foregone conclusion, she knew, and a topic that might distract him from her faux pas of speaking her mind.

  “So are some of the men.”

  “Your group of friends?” she guessed.

  He laughed aloud, though quiet. “You're quick.”

  “I don't have men hovering around me everywhere I go, like you have women. So simple deduction leads to your friends. Why are they watching?”

  “The single one is wondering if he's got a shot with you, and the others are probably waiting for me to trip over my own feet.”

  Sessily risked a glance toward his group of friends, amused. Not one was looking their way. Laughing, she playfully swatted his shoulder. “Liar. None of them are even paying attention. Besides, you're not a bad dancer.”

  “I'll take that as a compliment, even though we're not doing much more than swaying. Anyone can sway.” His palm made a circle low on her back, resting just above the base.

  “Does this mean you can do other, complicated dances?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like what?”

  “You'll have to wait and see.”

  “Give me a hint.”

  “What'll you give me if I do?”

  She blushed, thinking she'd accidentally traipsed into territory that was a bit too flirty. And what was she doing, anyway, acting like any other guest, as if she didn't have orders to follow and a sister in danger? It sobered her, realizing that Iris was probably scared out of her mind, held against her will God knew where.

  Easing back enough to meet his eyes, she said, “Actually, I think I should get back to my room.”

  Ahsan frowned, brows pulling together over his dark, dark eyes. “What brought on the sudden change?”

  “The wine, I guess. And I need to pack, since we're leaving earlier than I planned.” What she needed to do was get herself away from this addicting man. Get her head in the game, remember what she was here for. He made it too easy to forget everything but him. She would have never expected to be so comfortable in his presence.

  His lingering hesitation warned Sessily that he might be suspicious about her reasons. She had ended the dance and their conversation abruptly. Then he eased his hold around her waist and lowered their joined hands.

  “All right. Let me walk you back to your room. This way, I know where to have my men come pick you and your luggage up in the morning.”

  Should she let him? She wanted to. It would be the easiest thing. And she did need to tell him where to find her for tomorrow. Yet, what she said instead was, “Room 414. Just ring me when you're ready.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw, and his eyes still gleamed with uncertain curiosity. He released her hand, however, and shifted back a few inches to give her room. “Very well. I'm looking forward to our race.”

  Sessily hated to put the distance between them, but she fretted what might happen if she didn't. Things were rolling along too smooth, too...seamless. She half thought she might invite him into her room if he walked her back, a shocking thought in itself.

  “Thank you for the dance and for tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it, too.” She took two steps back, holding his eyes, then turned to navigate her way through the remaining dancers off the dance floor. Refusing to look back until she hit the archway, she darted a glance over her shoulder. He stood where she left him, watching her with a hawkish stare.

  Flashing him a daring little smile, one she hoped smacked of challenge and her anticipation to get on with their race, she disappeared down the hall toward the elevators.

  On the way, she wondered what she'd just gotten herself into.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  “I need to speak to Ba—the Crown Prince, please. This is Sessily.” While she waited for the bastard to get on the phone, Sessily removed her earrings, necklace and shoes. Rattled from her experience with Ahsan, she forced herself to refocus on her task and forget the chemistry between them.

  “Yes?” a curt voice said.

  “I need a favo--”

  “You need?”

  Sessily bit her tongue to refrain from making a scathing retort. “May I have a horse delivered to Ahsan's home the day after tomorrow? A fast one, one that will rival any in his stables.”

  Silence at first greeted her request. Then, Bashir said, “Have you lost your way? Forgotten what your purpose is with my brother?”

  “No, no of course not. But because I have to be at his house, this was the predicament that came up, and now I need a horse to arrive shortly.” Pacing through the upscale, expensive hotel room, she worried a piece of her hair, praying that the Crown Prince wouldn't be difficult in this crucial time. What would she do if he said no?

  “Other, less bothersome predicaments could have come up instead,” he said.

  She knew what he meant. Sex. “It just happened this way. Will you send one? Day after tomorrow, no sooner, no later. Please.”

  “It will be too suspicious if it comes from my stables. Unless you've divulged that you know me, and I truly hope that you did not.”

  Sessily shivered at the ominous tone in his voice. “Of course I didn't. But I need this to remain in his house. He thinks I come from a family of breeders, and you gave me all the information about him so I could use what I had to, yes? How about finding an animal from another stable?”

  Another long silence ensued, one that sent the hair up on the back of Sessily's neck. She would have to put a delay down to some problem at her 'stable', come up with a wild excuse if Bashir didn't deliver a horse.

  “You will have your horse. I expect my first update on what you find at my brother's house tomorrow night.” The line went dead.

  Sessily, cut off with no warning and no more instructions, set the cell phone on the nightstand. It wasn't her phone, of course—she couldn't afford one. On loan from Bashir, the outdated model had been manipulated to only call one number that would put her in touch with someone who could reach the Crown Prince.

  Pensive, she stripped out of the elegant gown that was more luxurious than any she had ever seen. Or worn. Cautioned to keep the dress in pristine condition, she hung it in the closet and covered it with a long bag. Stockings came next, rolled and set into a pocket in her suitcase. The mini-suite, decked out in pale leather and peach accents, with a large master bath, dazzled her every time she paused to take in the elegant furnishings and expensive lighting. Coming from such a lowly abode to this had been an eye opener. She still wasn't used to the luxury, couldn't believe people actually lived like this on a daily basis.

  Picking out a mo
dest pair of new pajamas, she drew the butter soft pants on and pulled the loose shirt over her head. The pale lavender color suited her well and was miles more comfortable than the rough hewn nightgown she usually wore. Back into the bathroom, she washed all the make up off her face, studying her reflection in the mirror. How had she come to be here? Why had Bashir chosen her, of all people? Yes, she'd fallen on hard times and yes, she had a younger sister he could exploit. But there were many other women he could have selected for this task. Women who might have done his bidding for money rather than blackmail.

  Exiting the bathroom, winding the mane of her hair into a loose knot, she cut two of the lights and approached the bed. Deciding to leave the single nightstand light on, she had just grasped the coverlet to pull it back when a knock came at the door. Three short raps.

  Bashir's men, no doubt, checking up on her to make sure she wasn't going to try and run. Why would she, when she knew what the outcome would be for her sister? Annoyed and, if she was honest, a little afraid, she approached the door.

  “Who is it?” she called, angling her head to try and see out the fisheye lens.

  “Ahsan.”

  Oh no. Her pajamas were modest enough that she didn't feel the need to change. It was more like a track suit anyway, with long sleeves and a high neck. The few seconds she waited were for her benefit, to prepare herself for anything he might say. Opening the door after sliding back the chain, she came eye to eye with the Sheikh.

  He'd lost the suit coat between the last time she saw him and now, leaving him in just the white button down and the pin-striped slacks. The sleeves had been flipped to his elbow, exposing the muscled, swarthy length of his forearms.

  In short, he looked like the playboy he was. She decided with a skip of her heartbeat that he was the most devastatingly handsome man she'd ever seen.

  Remembering her part in this sordid play, she cleared her throat and said with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “Yes?”

  *

  He didn't know what he was doing here. After taking himself back to his suite, he'd poured himself a quick drink, banished the confining coat, and rolled the sleeves back from his wrists. Something indefinable was under his skin, something more than his unexpected attraction to the svelte woman in white with the luxurious auburn hair and mesmerizing eyes. Unable to quell the driving need to check on her, he'd banged out of his room and stalked the halls with decisive determination.

  Standing at her door now, he realized it wasn't just one particular thing, but several combined that added up to trouble. Instincts honed to a fine edge, he rarely ignored it when his gut told him something was wrong.

  She had already changed into loungewear, hair pulled up away from her face. It did nothing to detract from the delicate lines of her body that most of her curves were hidden under a soft layer of velveteen. Sessily radiated calm confidence and that hint of playfulness that had drawn him in and held him sway. But it was that other thing, something much less defined and detectable that piqued his curiosity.

  What he wanted to do was crowd her back into the room, close the door and kiss her until she begged him to take her to bed. He didn't imagine the flicker of heat in her eyes, overlaying everything else. It would be so easy, hands all over her body, melting her until she was as pliable as he wanted her to be. Seduction was second nature to him, as easy as breathing.

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he finally said, when he dragged his mind out of the gutter. She'd left the gala abruptly, and that little glance back along with her smile didn't convince him that she wasn't upset about something.

  “Why wouldn't I be?”

  “No particular reason. But I'll feel better hearing it from your own lips.” He watched as her gaze tipped down to his throat, then to his boots. It resonated with him, proved that something was wrong. She was buying time—he knew the tactic all too well. Had she been offended by his deviation into flirtation? It was directly after his quip that she'd backed off, closed off, and left the party.

  “I'm fine, I promise.” She met his eyes again, forthright and head on.

  “Mind telling me what drove you from the ball?”

  “I'm simply looking forward to leaving tomorrow, that's all. I wanted to pack.”

  His gaze skipped past to her room, but he couldn't tell whether her things were packed or not. The door wasn't open all the way and her body blocked some of the view. When he realized what he was doing, he mentally chided himself. Being a part of the Royal Elite, a band of brothers who stepped up and stepped in when one of their own was in trouble, brought his detective skills to the fore. He had a habit of noticing everything.

  “All right. If you're sure.” He braced an arm up along the door frame, above his head, leaning his weight into it.

  She brandished the same challenging smile she'd given at the gala on her way out the proverbial door. “I'm sure. Did you come just to check on me?”

  Ahsan reined in a much more blunt reply and said instead, “I did.”

  “You don't strike me as the kind of man who does that for virtual strangers.”

  “I'm not.” And he wasn't. Although he wouldn't walk on by if someone was being mugged or molested, he was generally dismissive of women's 'plights' and situations. More often than not, they were ploys to get his attention. Sometimes he played the game, usually if he wanted something from someone.

  A knowing glint took hold in her eyes. “Ohh. I get it. You're protecting your wager for the race. Making sure all is on the up and up so I won't deviate and decide not to go to your home tomorrow.”

  Her reply was so unexpected that he laughed. “That's exactly what I'm doing. If the quality of your bloodline is as you say, then it behooves me to follow through. I'll be happy to have a new addition to my stables.”

  “You mean a new one to mine.”

  “We'll find out in a few days time, hm?” Of a lighter mood—which he suspected she orchestrated on the sly—he pushed away from the doorframe. “Sleep well and expect my men to come for you early.”

  “You can count on it. Until tomorrow.”

  He waited until she closed the door, until he heard the clack of the dead bolt and the rattle of the chain before turning away from her suite. Not convinced there wasn't something wrong, something she wasn't saying, he was nevertheless mollified by her cheeky retort and content to let it lie for now.

  Back on the correct floor, striding to his suite, he was almost to the door when someone spoke behind him.

  “He must be really distracted not to have heard us coming like a herd of elephants down the hallway.”

  Pausing, he brought Leander, Sander, Mattias and Chayton into view. He snorted in amusement. “I heard you. I was just waiting for you to harass me, Leander.”

  In truth, he hadn't been paying attention, thoughts consumed with the 'harem', Sessily and the upcoming race. It was rare he was caught off his guard and it wouldn't happen again soon.

  “Lies,” Sander said with a jovial clap to Ahsan's shoulder.

  Ahsan didn't deny it. “Are you all coming in for a drink?”

  “What do you think we're here for?” Leander retorted.

  Ahsan laughed and led the men in. His three bedroom suite had a large entertaining area with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, and a full kitchen with dining room. The open, airy atmosphere was offset by arabic architecture, rich colors, and polished wood furniture trimmed in gold. A wet bar stood to one side of the entertaining area, replete with every liquor known to man. Once everyone had gravitated to the bar, he stepped behind and made each of his brethren a drink. After all these years of working together as a team, he knew most of their more intimate habits.

  “But you're not here just for a drink,” Ahsan said. It wasn't a guess. As with Sessily and his instinct that something was bothering her, he knew his brothers in arms were here for another reason. The harem, he thought.

  “Of course not,” Sander said, settling on a stool
.

  Mattias, Leander and Chayton also positioned themselves on stools, facing Ahsan who stood behind the counter making his own drink.

  “I had no idea Bashir would pull that stunt,” Ahsan said, cutting to the chase.

  “We know,” Mattias replied.

  “It was an attempt to sully you and your name in public,” Leander said. “It almost worked. Good thing you've got balls and stood up to clear yourself.”

  “What I don't get,” Sander said between swallows of his potent drink, “is why. Why now?”

  Ahsan let the men speculate, taking a drink from his tumbler. The sharp sting of whiskey was welcome and appreciated. “Because he's Bashir.”

  “Has anything happened lately to make you think he would pull such a stunt?” Sander asked.

  Ahsan recognized that his brethren were on the hunt. Something wasn't sitting right with them, just as something hadn't sat right with him over Sessily.

  “The only unusual thing was the humanitarian award I won a few weeks ago, and which my father, the Emir, congratulated me over. Which was a shock—not the award, but my father acknowledging me.”

  “Yes, that is quite a shock, isn't it?” Sander said. It wasn't really a question.

  “You're not exactly his most beloved son,” Leander added.

  “That's what happens when a person shuns their upbringing, religion and the route a father expects their son to take.” Chayton, more quiet spoken than the rest, put it all in perspective.

  “He's got countless other sons to consider for the title of Emir. Bashir, so far, seems to be leading the pack. I've got no interest whatsoever in taking my father's place and everyone knows it. Why Bashir would be upset over my father inviting me to the main palace is beyond me.” He had another drink.

  “But Bashir would not do such a thing unless he was very motivated, would he?” Chayton asked.

  “He usually never does anything without a purpose. In this case, though, he might have done it out of spite. He's been known to lash out in other ways whenever the Emir shows our other brothers any kind of attention. But yes, usually he's motivated when he takes such blatant action.” Ahsan had put it down to a fit of jealousy on his brother's part, a warning not to get too comfortable at the palace.