Heart of the Dragon (9 page)

He pulled a handful of local currency from a sleek black wallet and paid the man. The others gathered around with stunned expressions on their faces. Rebecca assessed the family’s matriarch. She was all of five feet tall. Rebecca was five-eight. She tapped Kash’s shoulder tentatively. “In case you haven’t noticed, this lady is about half my size.”

“She says she has clothes to fit you. Have pity on me, for godsake. Her husband is trading me a piece of cloth for
my
clothes. No more arguing. I want to get out into the canal.”

The family bustled about, the children giggling and watching Rebecca with graceful almond-shaped eyes, while she and Kash waited under the curved ceiling, amid blankets, small chairs, a camp stove, and small crates packed neatly with the family’s possessions. “Pardon me, do you work in this department?” she asked Kash dryly. “Could you tell me where the changing rooms are?”

His worried eyes flickered with amusement and mischief for an instant. “We’re in it. Coed. If you dare peek at me, I’ll blush.”

“I doubt it.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who’s used to undressing in front of women I hardly know?”

“
Yes
. Including my half sister, who I imagine you know
very
well.”

Surprise flooded his expression. “Is that what you think?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“No, I don’t know her that well, and no, she’s not your half sister.”

They were interrupted by the wife, who placed a bundle of clothes in Rebecca’s hands. Rebecca smiled and nodded at her, while darting a worried look at the
pale cotton trousers and thin, short-sleeved shirt. Both were well made and clean, but much too small.

The husband brought a square of thin white cloth to Kash. Then the whole family bowed out of their floating hut and dropped a canvas curtain over the entrance. Dim light coming through an air vent in the ceiling enveloped Rebecca and Kash. She looked at him blankly, clutching her bargain outfit to her middle. They were packed in the tiny space, only an arm’s reach from each other. “We can’t even go to opposite sides of the room. I guess we can turn our backs.”

Kash chuckled fiendishly, unable to resist provoking her. Blood pounded low in his belly at the thought of their intimate circumstance, but he had too much on his mind to relish it. Her belligerent stance and accusing air brought out the rebel in him. “Go ahead and turn around,” he instructed. “Then I’ll be able to ogle your cinnamon buns without being obvious.”

“Good,” she said dryly. “Glad you’re not being inconvenienced.” With a huff of exasperation she pivoted, dropped her new clothes on a crate, and fumbled with a button at the back of her collar. Her pulse was pounding, and not just from the anxiety of being followed by the suspicious men on the dock.

The boat rocked slowly, a sensual sway, and the only sounds in the dim, close interior were the soft rustle of material being unbuttoned and opened. She flung a quick look over one shoulder and saw his bare back towering only inches away. His lean, muscular-looking rump, still covered in the handsome cream trousers, was so close, she warned herself to be careful bending over.

Slowly she pulled her silk blouse over her head and laid the rich, flowing colors aside. Unexpected tears stung her eyes.
I don’t want to give up this fantasy dress
, she admitted wistfully. When she finished putting on and buttoning the plain cotton shirt, she felt as if she’d been stuffed into a gauze glove. The buttons
strained over her breasts, and if she twisted just so, the shirt gaped open. She could see the rosette of lace at the center of her white bra.

The metallic swish of Kash’s zipper sent a corresponding zip up her spine. Her skin tingling with curiosity, she gritted her teeth and pushed her long silk skirt down her legs. Something solid and flexing and just about the size of his rump rubbed against her pantie-covered hips, as in a smooth, hard caress. She jumped, then turned to look warily at him.

“Sorry,” he said without much sincerity, as he bent from the waist to pull his trousers and shoes off his feet. With a slow intake of breath Rebecca scrutinized his nearly naked body, big and supple, clad only in snug black briefs—regulars, not the bikini type, darn it.

His rear was thrust out, almost brushing her body with each slight movement he made. It was a sleek curve of power and angular masculine shapes, the most perfect enticement a woman could hope for, and Rebecca swallowed harshly as reckless urges captured her hand, making it want to reach out and tweak him just to feel the combination of smooth black cotton and hard muscle. And to prove she could take his dare.

“Better not,” he said glibly, and suddenly she realized he was watching her from under the taut, sinewy line of his arm. “I’d have to reciprocate. It’d only be fair.”

“I only wanted to see where you store your ego.”

“I’ll turn around, then.”

“No, I’ve had all the laughs I can stand in one day.”

“A lesser man would shrivel at such mean words. I assure you, Corn Babe, I haven’t shriveled an inch.” His dark eyes fluttered coyly. It was such an absurd and calculated gesture from a man so unfrivolous and stern that a laugh burst from her throat. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

“You’re the one who stopped to ogle the first male behind you’ve ever seen close up.”

“And you’re the one who’s using this opportunity to look at my legs.”

“Forgive me, but I haven’t seen legs that long since an ostrich ran across my sleeping bag in Africa.”

“All right, all right, long and skinny and pale, I know. I’ve heard the jokes since I was old enough to walk. But they’re my legs, and I like them.”

“I only said they’re long. That’s all I said. You obviously haven’t shown them to the world in a few years, because they don’t look the way you think. They must have evolved.”

“I walk a lot. Miles.”

“Great muscles. And white panties. I’m not surprised.”

“This has gotten out of hand,” she said darkly, tugging the tail of her shirt down over most of her behind. She turned away from him again. “I’m sorry I ever started this discussion.”

He managed to plant his fanny against hers again as he finished removing his shoes. “My, my, I can’t control it,” he uttered, deadpan. She edged away from him and jerked her faded beige pants up her legs. The pants fit like the shirt—tightly on each curve. The hems stopped in the neighborhood of her upper calves. The center seam had the effect she’d always imagined a thong bathing suit would produce. Rebecca squirmed and tried to stretch the material, but had little success. She frowned down at herself and said ruefully, “I’ve been preshrunk.”

Kash straightened, and she felt soft, cool cloth brush against her hand. They turned to face each other at the same time. She coughed and studied him with disbelief. “It’s a diaper,” she said.

“It’s a very practical way of wrapping a cloth around yourself and between your legs,” he countered. “Very comfortable.”

He pushed the waist down an inch so that it hung low on his flat, muscle-streaked belly, nuzzled by the curly
black hair that swirled inward beneath his navel. With the center of the white cloth tied up loosely between his legs, the material hung around his thighs in graceful swoops, exposing the fronts in teasing glimpses of muscle and skin.

Rebecca had long since stopped analyzing his physical appeal. It was simply something she had to stay far away from, like a tornado posed at the edge of her safe boundaries. But appreciation careened through her senses.

“Nice outfit,” she realized he was saying to her. His gaze traveled down the thin cotton. “Good wiggling potential.”

The Thai woman pulled the canvas flap aside and looked in. Rebecca carried her silk skirt and blouse over. The woman’s eyes lit up, and she grasped the material happily, but soon frowned and peered at Rebecca’s chest, while saying stern and disappointed sounding words to Kash.

He cleared his throat, but the strangled humor was still evident. “She expects your brassiere, as well. Off with the goods, Ms. Brown. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

Rebecca gazed hard into the woman’s eyes, found no hint of retreat there, and sighed heavily. She stalked back to her former spot, turned her back, stripped off the shirt and bra, then put the shirt back on quickly and buttoned it. At least it didn’t gape open over her breasts anymore. It didn’t have to. Her alert nipples were already straining against the tight cotton.

She presented her bra to the woman with a curt
wai
. To Kash, she said dryly, “I believe I’ll survive. Let’s go.”

His arched brow belied the nonchalant once-over he’d given her new look. “Your wish is my command, O perky one,” he said, and bowed.

She threatened to hit him.

A few minutes later they had settled under the small canvas awning of a boat not much larger than a canoe, with a puttering little outboard motor. Rebecca sat in the front, watching Kash steer from the back, his long, handsome legs stretched out on a bamboo mat on the bottom, his bare feet casually crossed at the ankles, his chest and abdomen gleaming with perspiration, his usually stylish black hair ruffled by the hot breeze. The hint of the Orient in his features combined with his comfortable attitude to make an enchanting picture. Even as thoroughly Western as he was, he belonged here, too, framed by the panorama of Bangkok—brilliantly colored Buddhist temples, palm trees, tiny huts on stilts wading in the canal’s edges, boats filled with Thai families.

Transfixed, Rebecca peered at him from under a straw hat with a flat top and broad brim. The hat looked like a squashed volcano, and she suspected it gave her a laughable appearance. But suddenly she felt at home, despite being stuffed into tight pants and a shirt that screamed the feminine details of her body, despite being worried about the men who’d been following them, despite the upside-down turn her life had taken in the
past two days, and the mysteries of the man who lounged across from her now, watching her watch him.

“I knew it,” Kash said sardonically, but his gaze stunned her with its stark appreciation. “You found something to smile about. What?”

“Adventure. I love it.”

They motored up the canal for a long time in silence, and each time her eyes were drawn to him—which was often—she found his meeting them, warm and intrigued, as if he’d momentarily called a truce and only wanted to enjoy the sight of her. Serenity was an unexpected companion in their aimless, slow journey. She trailed one hand in the dark water, curled her bare toes and studied the interesting curve of them on the bamboo floor mat, and told herself she was one dumb Iowa bunny for feeling so joyful about being with him. Even telling that to her common sense didn’t make her enjoy him any less.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally.

“There’s a public garden at the canal’s edge, a little farther up. We’ll stop there. We can walk to the nearest street and take a taxi.”

“You’ve been in this kind of situation before. You seem to know exactly what to do.”

He shrugged lightly. “It’s my work.”

“Can your work be dangerous?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

“Yes. Most of the time.”

“What made you take the assignment to protect Mayura Vatan?”

“I speak Thai and know this part of the world so well. My father and I agreed that I was the best choice.”

“How many people work for your father?”

“Several dozen. They’re a close-knit group. They treat each other like family.”

“You sound as if you’re not part of the group. Why?”

“Only because I’m a loner at heart. I’m used to being on my own.”

“You aren’t close to your father?”

“In all the important ways, yes. But I was eight years old when he adopted me. And I came from an unusual background. I was never able to make the adjustment completely. I prefer to go my own way.”

“Your background?” she said in a leading tone, and waited for him to fill in the rest.

“The garden. ” He nodded toward an apron of perfect lawn and graceful Thai statuary that fanned out to a strip of pearl-white pebbles beside white stone steps descending into the water.

“Your background,” she repeated.

“Your nipples,” he countered.

She craned her good ear toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your nipples. They’re beautiful.” Rebecca’s mouth popped open. He gave her a predatory smile. “Conversation over.”

A few minutes later they were sitting on the lawn with a shield of bright red flowering shrubs behind them and the canal in front. The mottled walls of a magnificent old home lined the opposite shore. Atop were stone creatures having women’s heads and bodies and cats’ hind legs. Their hands were pressed into reverent positions beneath their chins, and their ornate costumes exposed their thrusting breasts. The sweeping, feminine curves of their bellies descended to triangles of a much darker stone. A brooding fantasy villa of peaked roofs and towering trees loomed above the wall.

“I don’t know who lives there, but he’s got a strange notion of what women look like,” Rebecca said giddily. Her head whirled from lack of sleep and the emotional strain of the past two weeks, but mostly from Kash’s disturbing effect.

“Are you all right?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. The contact seared her through the thin
shirt, and waves of sensation crested in the sensitive peaks of her breasts, making them as hard as those of the stone women-cats.

She wondered if he noticed. Undoubtedly. Santelli was the kind of man who noticed everything about his prey. But his voice was so smooth, so deep and luscious. It lulled her strained, tired mind. “I’m exhausted and confused,” she murmured, rubbing her forehead. Slowly his hand moved down her back, his fingertips stroking rivulets of pleasure over each vertebra.

“Lie back on the grass. Rest. I’ll make sure no one bothers us.”

“What is this?” She blinked owlishly at him, her eyes heavy with fatigue. “A trick? A tactic?”

“I believe it’s called a nap.” He clucked his tongue at her reproachfully.

“Hah. I think I hear a dragon purring. Probably means something bad’s about to happen.”