Heart of the Dragon (7 page)

“That remains to be seen.” He recalled the smooth, sweet heat of her mouth, and knew that she was far from harmless, at least to him. “This discussion is closed. Accept my assistance, please. I’ll provide you with a loan to replace your clothes and personal items. I’ll also arrange a new passport and traveler’s checks. You and I will get to know each other. Perhaps you’ll come to trust me.”

She was seething, her fists clenched by her sides, her whole body rigid. “Perhaps you’ll trust
me
, and I’ll finally meet Mayura. What you’re saying is I have to do what you want or there’s no chance I’ll see my half sister.”

“Exactly. Sorry.”

She dragged her answer out unhappily. “I suppose I accept, then.”

“Good.” He walked toward the door, passing the neatly made queen-size bed while a surge of loneliness mingled with pure arousal. Even Rebecca Brown’s anger was enticing. But only time would ease the awkwardness and resentment between them.

“One of my men will be outside your room all night,” he said over his shoulder.

“Making certain I don’t leave?” she called hotly.

“Making certain no one tries to harm you. But if you leave, yes, he’ll go with you. By the way, I’ll arrange for a few hundred dollars to be sent up to you. Pocket money.”

“You have a larger pocket than I do,” she said.

“I want my captive cartoonist to know how generous I am.”

“Exactly what do you expect me to do while I’m under your protection? Under your protection,” she repeated in a resentful tone. “That’s a nicer way of saying ‘under your thumb.’ ”

“I only want a chance to get to know you. I’m not such a cynical judge of people, despite what you think. But I
am
cautious.” Kash nodded to her, and said with droll formality, “May I call you by your first name, Ms. Brown?”

“It’d be ridiculous not to, since you and I seem to be stuck together like Siamese twins.”

He laughed sharply. “With a tendency to be joined at the lips.”

Rebecca shook her head. “No more of that. If that’s what you expect as part of this arrangement—”

“Don’t.” The word was spoken low and fierce, a sound like leather snapping. His eyes glittered with rebuke. “Don’t accuse me of that kind of manipulation. And don’t portray yourself as some sort of helpless maiden. If I ever kiss you again, you’ll be an eager partner. Just as you were tonight.”

She looked at him somberly, then nodded. “You didn’t deserve that accusation,” she admitted. “I apologize.”

“Good enough. I admire your honesty.”

“You don’t admire it enough, or you’d take me to see my half sister.”

He groaned in exasperation. “Good night, Rebecca.”

“Good riddance, Kashadlin.”

“Please, call me by the name all my trapped victims use. Kash.”

“Kash. Gee, I feel as if I really know you now. It makes my heart all warm and fuzzy. Like a tarantula.”

“You have a wonderful way with words, Rebecca. Have you ever thought of having the acid level on your tongue checked?”

“I express myself through my cartoons.”

“Ah, a poison-pen cartoonist. I see.”

Kash started toward the door again, but halted by a heavy, upholstered chair, where he spied a slip of paper peeking out from underneath. He knelt on one knee to retrieve it. Rebecca ran over excitedly. “They missed something! Thank goodness! I don’t care what it is, I’m glad to have it!”

Kash straightened, while she leaned close to him and peered over his shoulder. The paper was folded. He opened it and studied the malevolent dragon sitting on its haunches with its tail curled over one shoulder.
Kashadlin Santelli
was written underneath in big, looping script.

“Oh, darn,” Rebecca said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Considering the day’s circumstances, I understand.”

“Darn, I’m sorry,” she repeated solemnly, sighing. “I forgot to add the horns.”

Kash feigned an icy look but had to fight a smile. Even though the dragon was evil and buffoonish, it had been drawn with great skill and detail. At least he knew he’d won her attention. “Such a labor of love,” he said dryly.

“I wanted to capture the real you,” she muttered.

He folded the paper carefully. “May I keep it?”

“Go ahead. I’m sure I’ll be drawing more. It helps me work out my feelings toward you.”

“A series of personal portraits. I can hardly wait to see how I develop.”

He opened the door and stepped out, then pivoted to say good night. For along moment they looked at each other, sharing the day’s intensity, the night’s underlying sensuality, and for the time being, the promise of future meetings that would probably be as unpredictable as this one. “Eat well, sleep well, and rest,” he instructed. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Be still, my heart,” she said flatly.

Less than half an hour later Rebecca heard a knock at her door. Warily she went to it, tightly wrapped in a thick white robe the hotel maid had brought. “It is Kovit, miss,” a tentative bass voice said politely.

She grimaced. Her bodyguard, courtesy of Kashadlin Santelli. Santelli’s spy. She opened the door and peered out. Kovit handed her a package neatly wrapped in delicate gold paper. “From Mr. Santelli,” he explained.

She thanked him, locked the door again, and went to her bed. When she unwrapped the package, she smiled
darkly. He’d sent her drawing pads and pencils. And a note, written in sweeping black script as commanding as it was elegant. Her fingers played across the note repeatedly.
Dragons can be dangerous or friendly
, it said.
Depending on your point of view
.

“Good morning, Rebecca. Dreaming about dragons? Here I am, back to breathe fire on your upstanding Iowa marshmallows.”

Kash’s smoky voice whispered against her good ear. The effect was so erotic, he might have been in bed with her. Startled, Rebecca squinted in the darkness and tried to wake up. She held the phone from the night-stand against her ear, and his voice was definitely coming from the receiver, but she glanced around the room just to be certain she was alone. A tingle ran up her spine.

“Where are you?” she croaked, rubbing a hand over her eyes, then reaching for the light. Her hand paused, then dropped back to the warm sheets. The fantasy of imagining him behind her in the darkness, leaning over her, his lips almost brushing her ear, was blatantly tantalizing. She didn’t want to ruin it, she admitted.

“I’ve left my cave and come back to the hotel. I’m in the lobby. Where are you?”

“In bed, asleep.”

“You talk very clearly in your sleep, then.”

She finally got her wits together enough to notice the clock. “It’s only six!”

“I’ll be up in five minutes. We have a lot to do. A lot to learn about each other, isn’t that right?”

“Umm, the first thing you should know is that the last time I willingly got out of bed this early, I was having my diapers changed.”

“Well, if you insist, I’ll bring the talcum powder and—”

“Don’t expect me to speak or walk normally for hours.”

“This is somehow different from last night?”

“Santelli, it’s not nice to make fun of a person who’s still asleep.”

“You’re probably smiling. It seems to me that your natural inclination is to smile often and for no apparent reason.”

She frowned at the easy way he found her strings and pulled them. “Try it sometime. You might learn something nice about the world.”

“I’ll settle for learning more about you.”

“Just more, not something nice? I am a nice person, Girl Scout material, honest, kind, brave, and trustworthy. I swear. My half sister will like me. So introduce us, hmmm?”

“It’s only one minute after six, and she’s already starting,” he said ruefully. To her he ordered, “Turn in that merit badge for patience.”

“I bet you were never a Scout.”

“Noooh,” he agreed, with a grim edge to his voice. “Not even close. I was busy stealing, fighting, and trying to stay alive.”

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.