Fire and Desire

“For some reason, Trevor, I think you enjoy rescuing me,” she whispered.

He smiled as he reached out and took her hand in his. “I do.” He looked down at her. “You look great.”

“Thanks.”

The room was no longer silent. People were once again engaged in conversations. However, Trevor knew those same slavering wolves were discreetly watching them. “I may have disappointed a lot of men here tonight,” he whispered to Corinthians.

Corinthians looked up at him. “How so?”

“When you entered the room dressed in all white, because of the customs, traditions and beliefs in their countries regarding women wearing white, they saw you as a maiden virgin. I may have destroyed that image with my kiss, especially since it was in front of everyone at a professional gathering. Rumors will probably begin circulating that we're lovers.” He angled his head, studying her intently. “What do you have to say about that?”

She smiled up at him. “Nothing, since you and I know better. Tonight, we're merely playacting.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Before she could answer, he led her over to the table where dinner would be served.

Rasheed stood in front of the window in his Washington, D.C., apartment watching the rain. In Mowaiti, the rain was always welcomed. His people needed it for the growth of their crops. For the past few years, occasional drought had ravished the lands, making it harder for the people to earn a living, and making it harder still for them to feed their families. These things seemed to worry him more than they did his father, whose only concern was with gaining allies to keep the country safe. He had closed his eyes to the bleak circumstances surrounding his people. If it continued, Mowaiti would no longer exist as a country.

The soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A few minutes later, Swalar, his valet, announced the arrival of Yasir Bedouins, a man who had been his father's adviser and close confidant for a number of years. Rasheed had once loved this man like a father because when his own parents hadn't had the time to listen to his youthful woes, Yasir had. But because of Yasir's close relationship with Sheikh Amin Valdemon, and his strong sense of dedication and loyalty to him, their once-close relationship was no more, especially now since he was no longer a child, but a man with his own views and a mind to express them. Rasheed regretted that, like his father, Yasir's ambition in life was not in making Mowaiti a stronger and powerful nation, but in keeping it safe and preserving its present state of existence.

“Yasir, to what do I owe this visit? Is something wrong with Father?” he asked with genuine concern in his voice when the older man entered his office. Even with their differences, he loved his father deeply.

“No, your father is fine. A little tired tonight more than usual, but he's fine.”

At that moment, efficient as ever, Swalar brought in coffee. And as Swalar went about pouring the brew in each of their cups, Rasheed studied Yasir, trying to decipher his mood and most importantly the reason for his visit. However, no words were spoken until after Swalar had finished his task and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“How long has he been serving you?” Yasir asked before taking a sip of the coffee.

Rasheed frowned. “Who? Swalar?”

At Yasir's nod, he answered, “Since I was thirteen years old. Why?”

“I think he's getting too old for the task. You need a younger, more able-bodied man to—”

“I don't want anyone else,” Rasheed interrupted. “I like Swalar just fine, and he still serves my needs extremely well.” He took a sip of his own coffee before adding, “He and I understand each other.”

Yasir lifted a brow. “In other words, he's still very efficient in keeping your secrets.”

Rasheed knew better than to play cat-and-mouse games with Yasir. The man was too sharp-witted for that. But tonight, just to humor him, he would make an exception. “I suppose he's as efficient at keeping my secrets as you are in keeping my father's. Should I try and guess why he's so tired tonight?”

Yasir met his gaze directly and unswervingly. “Your father has special needs.”

Rasheed smiled faintly. “Evidently. But isn't it enough that he has a harem full of women back home in our country. Does he have to create another one here in this country, as well?”

Yasir shrugged. “The American women are willing enough, and he's not hurting anyone.”

Rasheed snorted. “No one but himself. He turns sixty-one this year. How many women a night is he up to now? Last count it was five.”

Yasir shifted in his seat, not out of mortification or disgrace, Rasheed concluded, but merely to find a more comfortable position. “I don't keep tabs on such matters,” he replied gruffly.

“Maybe you should. He's not immune to AIDS you know. And I love my mother very much. I wouldn't want my father's private, sordid affairs to ever cause harm to her health.”

“I take care of such matters.”

Rasheed shook his head, not doubting that he did. A part of him couldn't help wondering just to what extent Yasir did so. “Are you going to tell me why you're here, Yasir?”

The older man sat back in his chair. “I've heard things…” Yasir said slowly. “Senator Joshua Avery has boasted to others of your interest in his sister. Your father and I saw the two of you together last month at that dinner party for Senator Nedwyn Lansing.”

Rasheed took another sip of coffee. “So, what of it? She's very beautiful. And I happen to like American women…like my father.”

Yasir's smile was slow. “If anything, you would not like them because of that very reason. So I've been curious as to why Ms. Avery has interested you. To appease my curiosity, I did some checking into her background. What I discovered is very interesting.”

“And just what have you discovered, Yasir?”

“Knowing your modern views on how you believe you can save Mowaiti, I think your interest in Corinthians Avery speaks for itself.” Yasir leaned forward. “But don't be a fool, Rasheed. Take this advice from someone who cares for you like a father. Whatever you're into, get out of it. The United States is one of our biggest allies. We don't need you to bring bad blood between our countries because of your foolish, boyish dreams. Are you determined to destroy the good, solid relationship we have with this country that your father has worked years to cultivate?”

Rasheed leaped out of his chair. “Is it foolish and boyish to want better for our people?”

“No, but you have no proof there is oil anywhere in Mowaiti. If there were, don't you think it would have been discovered by now?”

“Not necessarily. Look at Libya, and how—”

“I don't want to hear about Libya. When are you going to realize we are a totally different country?”

Rasheed narrowed his eyes. “And when are you and Father going to get your heads out of the sand and out from underneath the American women's skirts, and take note of what's really happening in Mowaiti? You're so busy keeping Father's secrets and he's so busy creating more secrets for you to keep that neither of you can see what's happening. Neither you nor him have been to Mowaiti in months.”

Yasir stood. “I refuse to continue this conversation with you, Rasheed. I expect you to take heed of my advice. If I have to, I will alert your father of what you're about. I take my job as his confidant and adviser seriously.”

Without saying another word, Yasir Bedouins turned and walked out of the room.

Corinthians finished packing the overnight bag she was taking to Buzios, and placed it next to her bed. According to Armond Thetas, the chartered bus that would take them to the airport would arrive at dawn. She had decided to pack tonight instead of rushing about doing the chore in the morning.

She had left the dinner party more than an hour ago. Trevor had remained close by her side the entire evening, and she had appreciated that. At the end of dinner, he had escorted her back to her room. She'd been mildly surprised when all he'd done was brush a kiss on her cheek before saying good-night. She refused to admit she was disappointed he hadn't taken her into his arms and kissed her senseless like he'd done the night before.

Corinthians was so absorbed in her thoughts that the shrill ringing of the telephone startled her. She reached out and grabbed it before it could ring a second time. “Hello.”

“Corinth? What's going on, girl?”

Corinthians smiled. Her best friend, Brenna, was just the person she needed to talk to. The two of them had been friends since childhood and had no secrets.

“Brenna, when did you get back?” For years Brenna had been a Fashion Fair model, but had given it up a couple of years ago after complaining of being burned out and getting up in age. Photographers were looking for younger women these days, Brenna claimed, and not women who were hitting thirty. However, she had jumped at the opportunity when Ebony contacted her six months ago to coordinate the fashion shows for them. Although it meant constant travel, it had been an opportunity for her to remain a part of an industry she loved.

“I got back yesterday, but let's cut the small talk. Tell me, how's Trevor Grant?”

Corinthians laughed as she stretched out on the bed. “Trevor Grant is doing fine, I guess.”

“Did you see him today?”

“Yes, we attended the same dinner party tonight.”

“Umm. And you're alone now?”

Corinthians raised a brow. “Yes, why?”

“Then I bet the brother isn't doing fine. I bet he's taking a cold shower about now.”

Corinthians smiled at Brenna's assumption. She could actually hear the shower running in Trevor's room. But that didn't necessarily mean the shower he was taking was a cold one. “All right, Brenna, let up, girl. Pull back.”

“If you insist. But if I were you I wouldn't let him get away, Corinth. Good men are hard to find.”

Corinthians chuckled when she remembered something Trevor had said yesterday. “I bet I know where a few of them are.”

“Really? Where?” Brenna asked, more than mildly curious.

Corinthians scooted over in the bed to the side closest to the wall. Trevor's shower, she noted, was going full blast. “In the Marines.”

Nothing like a cold shower to cool a man off, Trevor thought as he dried off his wet body before placing a towel around his waist. There was only so much temptation that a sane man could take. And tonight he had nearly reached his limit. His lips twisted into a smile as he made his way out of the bathroom. Tonight Corinthians had been all grace, finesse and elegance. It hadn't been the flowing gown that covered, yet tantalized every curve of her body. Nor had it been the way she'd had her hair fixed atop her head in a bevy of curls that crowned her features with innocence. To his way of thinking, it had been the way she had carried herself, so vibrantly alive yet the carefully controlled, dignified and proper lady.

The envious looks he'd receive from numerous men had stunned him with the knowledge of just what he hadn't realized until tonight. There were two sides to Corinthians Avery. One was the wanton seductress, who had appeared half-naked in his hotel room that night, and the other was the prim-and-proper Ms. Avery. He couldn't help but wonder which Corinthians Avery he liked best. He then decided he liked them both. And deep down he knew he wanted them both.

Trevor bit back a groan when thoughts of having her sent blood rushing through his veins. When he had walked her to her room, it had taken all the control he could conjure from years of military training not to take her into his arms for a repeat of last night. He couldn't run the risk of tasting then devouring the sweetness of her mouth again, without being tempted to taste the rest of her.

He leaned back against the wall to get his bearings. This kind of sensual attraction was a first for him. Never had he been so captivated with a woman. And if that didn't beat all, this magnetic pull had lasted nearly two years. Even knowing that she was in love with another man—a man who happened to be his best friend—hadn't stopped him from desiring her, hungering after her. And that realization cut him to the core.

Reaching down, he picked up his overnight bag and began filling it with the things he needed for his overnight stay in Buzios. The only reason he had accepted Thetas's invitation was because the look Corinthians had given him had dared him to. He shrugged. He was a sucker for a dare, especially one from Corinthians.

Chapter 7

Someone was in her room.

That thought suddenly registered in Corinthians's groggy mind and she came awake instantly. She sat up in bed and frantically glanced around the room. It was dark and she couldn't see a thing. Fear knotted inside of her. She pushed aside the covers and was about to ease out of bed when someone pulled her up from behind. A large, rough hand covered her mouth, effectively silencing the scream she was about to make.

“Don't make a sound. We have to get out of here. Now.”

Trevor's deep voice cut through Corinthians's near hysteria. Her body became calm when she realized who the intruder was, and she automatically relaxed against his hard frame. She then became angry, almost livid. Had he lost his mind? The nerve of him entering her room in the middle of the night and frightening her. And how on earth did he get in? She squirmed against him, and when he twisted her around to face him, she glared up at him, barely making out his features in the darkness, but ready to give him a piece of her mind. She would have done so if his hand hadn't still been firmly clamped over her mouth. But in her furious state, she was not about to let that stop her. She tried talking against the palm of his hand and couldn't. She groaned her frustration, getting even madder.

Trevor pulled her over to an area where a small pool of light flowed in through the window blinds. “Shh. Listen to me, Corinthians. Listen like your very life depends on what I'm about to tell you because it just might. A group of terrorists have taken over this hotel.”

He saw her dark eyes widen and blink as she comprehended what he had said. He felt the chill that swept through her body and momentarily froze her in place. “I couldn't sleep and decided to go downstairs. I took the stairs instead of the elevators.” Trevor decided not to mention the reason he had taken the stairs was because he'd felt the need to work off some frustrated sexual energy. Being around her at the dinner party had made his desire for her stronger than ever.

“When I got to the bottom floor I saw them. They're holding some of the hotel personnel at gunpoint, as well as some of the people in our group who decided to stay late at the dinner party. I ducked back in the stairway before they saw me. It's my guess that eventually they'll make a clean sweep of this hotel and take anyone they can as hostages, especially Americans. I don't plan on being among that number, and I don't think you want that, either. So we're getting out of here. Understand?”

Corinthians nodded her head. She could tell from the look on Trevor's face and from the troubled sound of his voice that he was dead serious about the hotel being under terrorist attack. She took in a deep gulp of air when he removed his hand from her mouth.

“Come on, we have to move quickly before they reach our floor,” he whispered close to her ear. “I've jammed the elevator and blocked the stairway door but that will only buy us—”

“Why don't we just call the police?” Corinthians cut in. Following his lead, she kept her voice low.

“I tried, but the phones are dead. And because this hotel is located on an isolated stretch of beach the cell phones haven't worked since day one, and there's no place we can go to for help that's close by.”

He sighed deeply. “We're wasting time. You need to change out of what you have on and put on something else. Wear something dark, and put on a pair of comfortable shoes. And you're going to have to get the items out of your closet without turning on the lights.”

It suddenly hit Corinthians that she was dressed in her sleepwear. But at the moment, being modest was the last thing on her mind as she quickly moved to her closet. She couldn't worry about Trevor seeing her dressed in her short, silk nightshirt. There wasn't much light in the room for him to see too much and besides, he'd once seen her in a whole lot less.

No woman's body should be that perfectly shaped, Trevor thought as he watched Corinthians rush to the closet and begin pulling items off hangers. And no woman's body should feel that soft. He couldn't help but remember how she'd felt against him a few moments ago when he had pulled her out of bed. His hand hadn't been what he'd wanted to use to cover her mouth. The deep desire he always felt around her had tempted him to cover her mouth with his own, and again taste her passion and her fire. What he had wanted to do with his hand was to run it over her body, to feel her softness while he continued to kiss her, and elicit from her that sweet, deep, throaty moan he'd gotten out of her last night while kissing her.

He mentally chastised himself for letting his mind concentrate on seducing her and not on the important matter at hand, which was getting them to safety. “While you're getting dressed I'm going to throw a few things we might need in a bag,” he whispered, glancing around the room. He needed to look at anything in the room but at her right now, especially her legs and thighs that were exposed from underneath her short nightshirt.

“I packed that bag earlier tonight to take with me to Buzios,” Corinthians said, pointing to her overnight bag next to the bed. “Everything I might need is in it. We'll be able to return to the hotel in a couple of hours, won't we?”

Trevor wished he could answer yes to that question, but he wasn't sure. “I hope so,” he said leaning down and picking up her bag. He frowned. It was heavy, way too heavy.

“Where are we going?” Corinthians asked, tossing the items that she had taken out of the closet on the bed.

“In the jungle. We'll hang out there until the authorities get things back under control here.”

She nodded. “How did you get into my room?” she asked, after reaching down for her shoes and socks.

“I picked the lock,” he answered absently. He couldn't keep his gaze off her legs.

When Corinthians dashed off into the bathroom to change, Trevor sucked in a deep breath to regain control of his senses before quickly walking through the connecting door and into his room to get his own overnight bag. They would have to combine their stuff into one bag, preferably his since it appeared to be the sturdier of the two.

Going back into Corinthians's room, he opened her night bag and began going through it, only taking out the things he thought were necessary and packing them in his. His hand trembled when it came in contact with silky and lacy material. He took a deep breath when he pulled out a pair of lacy underwear and a matching bra. He put them back inside her bag.

Corinthians came out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of dark-colored jeans and a black top. She had on a pair of sneakers.

“We can only take one bag, so I'm putting our stuff together and using mine,” Trevor said, turning to her.

She nodded. “Did you get everything I need?” she asked as she watched him zip up the bag.

Trevor thought about her underthings he hadn't placed in his bag. “I took out everything I'm letting you take. Too much stuff will slow us down and we don't need that.”

He tossed her wallet to her. “Keep this on you at all times. You may need your passport.”

Corinthians nodded, stuffing her wallet into her back pocket. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“Just follow me and do what I tell you to.”

Corinthians took offense with the bossiness of his tone of voice. She glared up at him. “I'll do what you tell me to do as long as it makes sense.”

“I won't do it, Trevor. It doesn't make sense. There has to be another way,” Corinthians said moments later as they stood on the balcony of her hotel room.

Trevor turned and met her gaze. “What do you suggest that we do? Use the elevators or the stairs to get down?” His voice was low and agitated. He was beginning to lose his patience. “This is the only way we can make it down without being seen. It's not as bad as it looks.”

Corinthians wasn't convinced of that, as she looked down over the balcony's railing to the ground that was five stories below. She then looked at the fire escape ladder that over the years had grown covered with trails of burgeoned vines. Evidently periodic safety inspections weren't required here. “I disagree. I think it's as bad as it looks.”

Trevor frowned. “Then suit yourself. You can stay here if that's what you're inclined to do. But I'm going down using that ladder. I suggest you do the same and follow. Believe me, the last thing you'd want is to stay behind. Female hostages, especially the ones who're attractive as you are, don't fare well with terrorists. I'm sure you know what I mean.”

Corinthians shuddered. She knew exactly what he meant. Last year the newspapers had reported how an American businessman and his wife, who had been vacationing in Central America, had been abducted by a group of revolutionaries. The man had been killed and his wife had been gang raped before she'd been left for dead.

She took a deep breath. Revolutionaries or terrorists, they were all the same in her book. Both groups had causes and beliefs they were willing to die for; causes and beliefs they would do just about anything to draw worldwide attention to.

Corinthians glanced again at the ladder. It didn't look like it could hold one person's weight, let alone two. “I might fall,” she finally said softly in a shaky voice.

Trevor saw the fear in her eyes, and he heard it in her voice. A part of him wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and soothe her, reassure her. “You won't fall. I won't let you. Trust me.”

Their eyes met for a moment, then Corinthians nodded. She would trust him. For some reason she believed he would get them to safety.

“Come on, Corinthians. We need to get a move on, and the fire escape is our only way. I'll go first and you follow. With me ahead of you, I'll be between you and the ground.”

Corinthians nodded and watched Trevor. With the overnight bag in one hand, he hefted his body over the side railing. After getting the proper footing, he reached out and grasped the vine-covered ladder with his free hand.

He glanced back at her. “Just follow me down.”

Trevor had gone down the rungs a few feet before looking up at Corinthians. She hadn't moved from her spot on the balcony. “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

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