Heart of the Dragon (6 page)

“We’re making progress, at least.”

Kash frowned as he watched Rebecca walk woodenly toward the bathroom. He stopped her and went in first. It was empty. When he waved her in, his discovery must have shown in his face, because she mumbled, “Don’t tell me they took everything in there too.” He could see her distressed blue eyes focus blankly on the marble vanity top.

Kash took her gently by one arm. “Come and sit down. I’ll order something from room service. A stiff glass of milk, or whatever an Iowa minister’s daughter claims to like.”

Emotion brought a flush to her cheeks and made her eyes glitter. Her expression shifted with the myriad feelings passing through her. He couldn’t read them, but was fascinated. Looking down at her with increasing appreciation, he caught his breath. And for the first time since he’d met her—had it only been earlier that day?—he couldn’t ignore the desire that coursed through him, tightening him even now.

Suddenly he realized that she was searching his eyes, probably trying to find out about
his
emotions. “You really didn’t have anything to do with this?” she asked grimly. “I mean, what would be the point of stealing my toothbrush? Or cartoons and old photos?”

“Perhaps you’re less ordinary than you think. But no, I didn’t rob you.”

“Exactly what
were
you planning to do to me, then? Or rather, what
are
you planning? What happened to your big, bad threat from this afternoon?”

He studied her in exasperation, but kept a cool mask
on his face. “I assure you, if you cause me or my client any trouble, you’ll regret it.”

“Would you do something worse than this, or use a
different
kind of torture and intimidation?” Sarcasm cut through her voice.

“Really, Ms. Brown, we villains prefer to keep our strategy to ourselves.”

“What could be worse than this? Being beaten up? Sold into slavery? Forced to eat liver and onions? I really
hate
liver and onions.”

“You don’t seem too worried about my intentions.”

“I’m not certain why you’re playing Sir Galahad, that’s all.”

He gestured toward his hooded eyes and tawny skin. “Sir Galahad? There’s nothing English about this face.”

“Exactly where are you from?”

“Virginia. I have what’s known as a Tidewater southern accent. Very old and proper. Why, don’t I look as if I belong among the magnolias and the peaches?”

“No, you look like you belong in a desert tent with your harem. Or in a pagoda with your concubines.”

He laughed shortly, a little stunned by her perception—not the harem and concubines part, but the cultural connection. “My mother was half Egyptian and half Vietnamese. My father was an American Army adviser assigned to Saigon before the Vietnam War started. I was told that he was from New Jersey. And obviously of Italian heritage, with a name like Santelli.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. Whether she approved of his mixed heritage or not, he couldn’t tell. “You never knew him?” she asked.

“No.” The reasons behind that weren’t something he cared to discuss. He’d already told her more than he revealed to most people. Worse, he couldn’t believe that he’d so easily confided personal information to her, a woman he hardly knew.

He closed his hand around her upper arm and tried not to be distracted by the firm, sleek feel of it under his
shirtsleeve. “Why are we standing here chatting like two accountants who’ve just met at a singles bar? You’ve been robbed of everything you own. You should be weeping and tearing your hair out—something I, as a typical villain, could sneer at.”

“There’s nothing typical about
you
. If I’m not hysterical, it’s because I’m not the hysterical type. I tend to become stubborn and make dumb jokes when life gets rotten. And when I’ve got a decision to make.”

“What is that?”

“I’m going to call the Bangkok police and report everything that’s happened to me today. Then I’ll call the American embassy. Your name will figure prominently in everything I say.”

“I love compliments.”

“Don’t count on them, bub.”

He motioned toward the other room. “Can we sit down and hold a
civilized
argument?” He glanced around. “I never conduct important discussions in boudoirs smelling of cinnamon bath soap. Very interesting, though. Do you think of yourself as a cinnamon bun, a cookie, or a steaming cup of hot, spiced cider?”

She stiffened and gave him a fierce look. “A cold vanilla milkshake with poison in it. Please, take a big sip.”

“Invitations were made to be accepted.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her lightly. Her sharp gasp broke against his mouth. He held her in a loose embrace, one she could easily pull away from, but instead of shoving him away, she twisted her mouth tightly on his, then reached up and pinched his right ear so hard that tears came to his eyes. But he stood absolutely still, refusing to break the kiss, astonished at his impulse and her reaction.

He felt her tremble against him. Slowly her hand dropped to his shoulder and clenched his soft cotton undershirt. Her mouth was as mobile as his own, and just as aggressive. Waves of desire shot through him,
stunning him. He was far from being a stranger to desire, but not this scalding, elemental sense of losing himself in her. When he opened his lips, she made a bitter sound of distress but parted her lips for the urgent sweep of his tongue. As she sagged against him, Kash felt his knees weaken with the power of intense, jumbled needs, aching and neglected emotions that wanted to fight their way to the surface.

Rebecca couldn’t believe she was willingly holding him, that her fear and anger had been reduced to a blinding curiosity about the passion behind his dark eyes. His body was a hard wall and yet amazingly fluid, inviting hers to bend into the taut curve of his belly, the deep swell of his chest.

She quivered helplessly when his hands slid up her arms and unfurled along the sides of her neck. Tendrils of fire radiated from his fingertips as he brought his palms forward, brushing the center of her throat. Slowly he angled his hands behind her head, sinking his fingers into her hair and tilting her head up, so her mouth met more deeply with his.

Dragging her hands over his shoulders, she kneaded the hard muscles and felt them flex in response. He was the shadowy force she’d been drawn to all her life; the faceless erotic visitor in her nighttime dreams; the first man who’d ever caused her to forget everything but the primitive need for fulfillment. Her body wanted to curl around his, and every impulse urged her to strain toward him in slow, rhythmic motion.

He broke the kiss at the same moment that she wrenched her head back. She stared up at him in white-faced disbelief, breathing heavily. He realized that he must look the same way to her. He was holding her shoulders, keeping her away, and she had the same defensive grip on his shoulders.

“I want you to be all the good and decent things you claim you are,” he said huskily. “I swear that nothing would please me more.”

She drew shaky breaths, inhaling his musky, masculine scent. “And I wish you had enough faith in human nature to believe I’m not lying about who I am and what I came to Thailand for.”

“You and I have only one choice. We can study each other and try to learn the truth.”

“Study each other?” she echoed, frowning. “Don’t mince words. You intend to investigate me, grill me for information, and try to catch me in lies. What were you trying to learn when you kissed me?”

Regret and anger warred inside Kash. “Just now—the intimacy—it wasn’t planned. In fact, it wasn’t even wise. Congratulations, Ms. Brown, you provoke me in ways no other woman has been capable of. I can’t say I’ve ever been pinched during a passionate embrace—not on the ear, at least.”

Her expression darkened. In a voice that vibrated she said, “I don’t know how we ended up doing that, but we’re not ever going to do it again.”

“I started it, but you were trying to prove something. Are you satisfied?”

“Satisfied that you’re trying to complicate a situation that’s already confused beyond hope. I’ve been kissed before, Santelli, and I’m not a kid. I wanted you to know that.”

“I think you put too high a premium on kissing. It takes a lot more to prove anything to me. Besides, I already assumed you’d been kissed before. In fact, at your age I hope you’ve done considerably better than that.”

“At my age?” Her mouth formed an
Oh!
of dismay. She swallowed hard and shook her head in disgust. “Is everyone over the age of consent supposed to have a collection of notches on their bedposts?”

Kash arched his brows in mock dismay. He was silently trying to believe that a twenty-six-year-old woman in the modern world—even a minister’s daughter,
if her story was true—had never gone to bed with a man. He cleared his throat gruffly. “Not a collection, necessarily, but at least a scratch or two.”

She did a double take and blinked, appearing to grow even more upset. They were plummeting into uncharted territory at dizzying speed. “I believe in keeping my bedroom furniture in mint condition,” she said, her voice rising. “It’ll last longer that way.”

“Or just become a dusty antique, unseen and unappreciated.”

“I’ll marry an antique lover, then.”

“Marry someone closer to your own age. The insurance is cheaper.”

She muttered darkly, and wriggled out of his grip just as he raised his hands to release her.

“What a relief,” he quipped. “I thought you were going to take advantage of me.”

She turned on her heels and walked rigidly into the other room. Pulling open dark russet drapes, she stood in front of the window with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. The curtains framed her against the sprawling and colorful lights of Bangkok at night, a few stories below. The Chao Phraya River was a wide black ribbon winding through the landscape, dotted with the lights of barges and small boats.

“A lovely view,” said Kash, walking up behind her.
She
held his attention, not the scene outside. For all he knew, tigers could have been dancing in midair. He was watching the woman who had no right to be so vivid in his imagination. “Calming to look at, if you don’t let yourself wonder what’s going on beneath the surface.”

Her shoulders were drawn back proudly. She turned her head toward him, presenting a strong, clean profile. The face that had seemed merely pretty at their first meeting now revealed rare energy and intelligence. “I came to Bangkok because I wanted to find my half sister,” she told him. “But I also wanted to encourage
something new about myself, the part of me that’s tired of playing safe.”

Kash moved beside her and forced himself to gaze ahead. “I don’t believe that you’re Mayura Vatan’s half sister. But I may be willing to concede that you, at least, think it’s true.”

“Thanks for small favors.”

“I said I
may
believe that.”

“Tell me about the Vatan family’s feud with these other people, the … the—what is their name again?”

“Nalinats. They claim Mayura agreed to marry their son. She didn’t. But the Nalinats believe they’ve been dishonored. In Thailand, loss of face is the most terrible insult. There have been some ugly incidents.”

“Against Mayura? What? Please tell me.”

Caution made him brusque with her. “There’s no need for you to know about that—not yet, at least.”

She groaned in frustration. “But these Nalinats are probably responsible for the men who attacked me and robbed my room! Don’t I deserve more information? Why do you have to be so secretive?”

“My client deserves confidential treatment. When I know you better, and I’ve finished checking your background, we’ll talk.”

“You can’t confide in me, but you can kiss me—twice in one day! How well do you have to know a woman before you maul her?”

“I apologize for the first time. It was an unwise tactic, nothing more. Ah, but the second time, the second time was mutual, Ms. Brown.” He cocked a black brow at her accusingly. “I was carried away.”

“Someone like you doesn’t kiss someone like me unless there’s a reason—and it wasn’t my incredible beauty, okay?”

“You give yourself too little credit. But have it your way—I only kissed you in the hope that my fantastic technique and irresistible body would lure you into
admitting the truth.” His voice became droll. “I was a miserable failure. Oh, woe is me.”

“Good-bye, Santelli. I’ll take care of myself.”

“You said that before, at the brothel. It was an ignorant statement then, as well as now. What do you intend to do—ask the police to watch over you? Expect our embassy to protect you from local thugs each time you leave the hotel? You can report everything to the authorities, which won’t do any good at all, or you can accept my protection.”

After a speechless moment she said between gritted teeth, “Accepting protection from you would be like asking a dragon to toast my marshmallows. I’d get roasted by accident.”

He bit back a laugh. Her eccentric way of looking at life delighted him. “I’ve warmed many a woman’s marshmallows in complete safety.”

“Not mine.”

He dropped his teasing attitude, which was strained, at best. “You’re not safe in Thailand. Regardless of what you think you have to fear from me, someone much less likable than myself is your real problem. If you insist on staying, you must be as quiet about it as possible. No police reports. No wandering about the city alone.”

“You just want an excuse to keep track of me twenty-four hours a day.”

“That’s true. But think of this, also. I have a definite reason for keeping you safe. Anyone who hurts you may well have designs on my client. So consider yourself part of your so-called half sister’s security plan.”

“Take me to meet her.”

Kash shook his head, and felt regret. Rebecca Brown looked so wistful, suddenly. “That’s out of the question.”

“Why? I’m harmless! A harmless cartoonist from Iowa! I grew up in a small town with a kindly, overprotective Methodist minister for a father! I have a house with a front-porch swing and flower beds in the front yard! I’m disgustingly
wholesome
!”