Bound To Her Desert Captor

‘Like what you see?’

His deep voice slid over her skin like the richest velvet, making her realise that she’d been caught staring at his mouth. Alarmed, she realised that the tingly sensation swamping her senses was some sort of sexual attraction she couldn’t remember ever experiencing before.

A betraying jolt went through her and his lazy, heavy-lidded gaze told her that he was too experienced to have missed it.

Flustered and appalled at her own lack of sense, she dragged her eyes to his. ‘You speak English.’

‘Evidently.’

His droll tone and imperious gaze made her feel even more stupid than she’d felt already, and she grimaced. ‘I meant you speak English well.’

His only response was to raise one eyebrow in condescension. Regan got the distinct impression that he didn’t like her. But how was that possible when she had never even met him before?

‘What are you doing here, American?’ His voice was low and rough, his lips curling with disdain.

No, he didn’t like her. Not one little bit.

‘How do you know I’m American? Are you?’

She hadn’t been able to place his accent yet.

He gave her a humourless smile. ‘Do I look American to you?’

No, he looked like a man who could tempt a nun to relinquish her vows. And he knew it. ‘No. Sorry.’

‘So what are you doing here?’

She let out a breath and pulled herself together. She didn’t know whether to hold the photo of Chad out to him or not. Despite his relaxed slouch, he looked as if he was ready to pounce on her if she so much as blinked the wrong way. ‘I’m...looking for someone.’

‘Someone?’

‘My brother.’ Deciding there couldn’t be any harm in showing him the photo, she extended it across the table, making sure their fingers didn’t connect when he took it. His eyes held hers for a fraction longer than necessary as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Which she hoped wasn’t true because she was still stuck on the whole sexual attraction thing. ‘Have you seen him before?’

‘Maybe. Why are you looking for him?’

Regan’s eyes widened. Hope welled up inside her at the thought that she might have finally found someone who would be able to help her. ‘You have? Where? When?’

‘I repeat, why are you looking for him?’

‘Because I don’t know where he is. Do you?’

‘When was the last time you heard from him?’

His tone was blunt. Commanding. And suddenly she felt as though he was the one looking for Chad instead of her.

‘Why won’t you answer my questions?’ she asked, her instincts warning her to tread carefully.

‘Why won’t you answer mine?’

‘I have.’ She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘How do you know my brother?’

‘I didn’t say I knew him.’

‘But you did...you said...’ She shook her head. What exactly had he said? She lifted her hand to her head where it had started to ache. ‘Look, if you don’t know him just say so. I’ve had a long day and I’m really tired. Not that you care, I know, but if you know where he is I’d really appreciate you telling me.’

He looked at her for so long she didn’t think he was going to say anything. ‘I don’t know where he is.’

Something in his tone didn’t sound right but her brain was so foggy she couldn’t pick up on what it was. All she could focus on was a growing despair. After the surge of hope she’d felt moments ago it seemed to weigh more heavily on her than it had all day. ‘Okay, well—’

‘When was the last time you heard from him?’ he asked for a second time.

Regan paused before answering him. She didn’t know this man from Adam. He didn’t know her either for that matter. So why was he asking her so many questions? ‘Why do you want to know that? You already said you don’t know where he is.’

He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I don’t. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.’

Their eyes clashed and Regan had a sudden image of a lethal mountain lion eyeing off a prairie rabbit. ‘Help me?’

‘Of course. You look like a woman who is almost out of options.’

She was a woman who was almost out of options. But how did he know that? Did she look as desperate as she felt?

He smiled at her but it held not a hint of warmth. ‘Are you going to deny it?’

Regan’s brows drew together. She wanted to deny it but she couldn’t. And really she could use some help right now. Especially from someone who was a local and knew the area well. Someone who might even know Chad. But this man had already admitted that he didn’t, and frankly he unsettled her. She’d thought he was dangerous when she’d first spotted him from across the room and, while closer inspection might have confirmed that he was incredibly good-looking, it hadn’t shifted her initial impression one bit. Which was strange because he hadn’t made a single threatening move towards her. Still, she listened to her instincts and there was something about him she didn’t trust. ‘Thanks anyway, but I’m good.’

‘Good?’ He gave a humorous laugh. ‘You’re a foreign woman in a bar, alone at night in a city you don’t know. Exactly how are you good, America?’

She pursed her lips at both the nickname he had given her and the element of truth behind his words. When she’d first set out it had been early evening and she hadn’t given much thought to the time. All she’d considered was finding information that might lead to Chad. But she wasn’t completely vulnerable, was she? She had her mace. ‘I just am. I’m from New York. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Really? So what’s your plan now? You going to go bar-hopping and hold up your little photo to every person you come across?’ He made the only idea that had come into her head sound ridiculous. ‘That’s fine if you’re looking for trouble as well as your brother.’

‘I’m not looking for trouble,’ she retorted hotly.

His gaze narrowed at her haughty tone, his inky black lashes making his blue eyes seem electric. It was totally unfair that she should have brown hair and brown eyes while this man was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen in the flesh.

‘Take a look outside. You have been in my country for less than twenty-four hours and you know nothing about it. You should be glad that I’m offering my assistance.’

Regan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘How do you know how long I’ve been in Santara?’

‘Any longer and you would know not to swan into a bar in this part of town without an escort who could take on fifty men.’

Regan felt a trickle of unease roll down her spine. She glanced around the room to find it even busier than before. ‘I’d like my photo back, please,’ she said, standing to go.

He watched her, unmoving. ‘Where are you going?’

As if she was silly enough to tell him that. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ she said briskly, ‘and it’s getting late.’

‘So you’re just going to turn around and walk out of here?’

‘I am,’ she said with more bravado than she felt. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘I don’t know, America; can you take on fifty men?’

Regan shivered at the husky note in his voice, her body responding to him in a way she really couldn’t fathom. Their eyes clashed and something raw and elemental passed between them. Again, he hadn’t moved but she got the distinct impression that he was a bigger threat to her than fifty other men could ever be.

Not wanting to put that to the test, she gave him a tight smile. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’

Once more conversation slowed as curious eyes surveyed her and Regan stuck her hand in her bag, palming her can of mace, before turning and striding towards the entrance of the bar as if her life depended on it.

Relieved when she made it outside without incident, she sighed and hailed a cab that by some miracle pulled into the kerb in front of her.

‘Hello? Are you free?’ she asked the pleasant-looking driver wearing some sort of chauffeur’s hat.

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Thank heavens.’ She jumped in the back and gave the driver the name of her hotel, only feeling as though she could fully relax when the dark car started moving. Which was when she realised that the stranger in black hadn’t given Chad’s photo back to her.

She glanced out through the rear window, half expecting to find him standing on the pavement watching her, but of course he wasn’t. She was being silly now. And the photo didn’t matter. She would print off another one tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

JAG STOOD OUTSIDE the door to Regan James’s hotel room and questioned the validity of his actions. He’d been doing that the whole drive over.

After meeting her in the bar it was clear that she knew nothing about her brother’s whereabouts. She also seemed to know nothing about his sister being with him. But then she had grown cagey when he’d probed her about the last time her brother had contacted her, and he didn’t know if that was because her sense of self-preservation had kicked in, or whether she had something to hide.

Regardless, she was his only link to Chad James and she would undoubtedly have a wealth of significant information about her brother that could lead him to find his sister.

A predatory stillness entered his body as he raised his hand to knock at the door. Regan James had been a revelation at the bar. He’d been right when he’d first seen her photo. Her eyes were not brown, they were cinnamon, and her hair was a russet gold that reminded him of the desert sands lit by the setting sun. Her voice had also been a revelation; a husky mixture of warmth and pure sex.

She had evidently reminded some of the other men in the bar of the same thing because Jag had noticed the sensual speculation in more than one male gaze as she had moved through the bar. She had a slender grace that drew the eye and her smile was nothing short of stunning. Even his own breathing had quickened at that first sight of her, and when she’d stood in front of his table, her doe eyes wide and uncertain, he’d had the shocking impulse to reach across the table and drag her into his lap.

It had been a long time since he’d responded to a woman with such unchecked desire and the only reason he was even here was because he’d realised that he couldn’t interrogate her in the bar. As it was, some of his people had started to recognise him despite the fact that he’d shaved off his customary neat beard and moustache. He rubbed his hand across his clean-shaven jaw, quite liking the sensation of bare skin. Instantly the thought of rubbing his cheek along Regan James’s creamy décolletage entered his head and altered his breathing.

He scowled at the unruly thought. It had been a long time since he’d been influenced by his emotions rather than his intellect as well; some might have said never. Milena often accused him of having ice running through his veins, of being inhuman. He wasn’t. He was as human as the next man, as his physical reaction to Regan James earlier had proven.

The fact was, Jag had learned to control his emotions at an early age and he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As a leader it was essential that he keep a cool head when everyone else was losing theirs. He had certainly never let a pretty face or a sexy body influence his decision-making process and he never would.

Irritated that he was even pondering emotions and sex, he raised his fist to bang on the door.

He heard the sound of water being shut off and a feminine, ‘Just a minute.’

He let out a rough breath. Excellent; she was just out of the shower.

The door opened wide and he found himself staring into Regan James’s gorgeous eyes. Seconds seemed to lengthen into minutes as his eyes automatically travelled down her slender form.

‘You!’

‘Me,’ Jaeger growled, his voice roughened by the swift rise of his body at the sight of her in a cotton dressing gown and towel around her head. He pushed past her into the room before she had a chance to collect herself and slam the door in his face.

‘Hold on. You can’t come barging in here.’

Jag didn’t bother to point out the obvious. That he already had. Instead he scanned the small room, looking for any signs that might clue him in as to where her brother might be.

‘Did you hear me?’ She yanked on his arm to turn him towards her and the move was so unexpected, so shocking that he did indeed turn towards her, a frown on his face. Nobody touched him without first being given permission to do so. Ever.

His eyes narrowed as she clutched the lapels of her robe closed, making him acutely aware that she was naked beneath the thin cloth. He wanted nothing more than to wrench the garment from her body and sink into her feminine softness until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be burdened by duty. Until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. But no one could escape destiny and one night in this woman’s arms wouldn’t change anything. Duty and loneliness went hand in hand. He’d learned that from watching his father.

Savagely tamping down on needs that had materialised from who knew where, he scowled at her.

‘I heard you.’

‘Then...’ She lifted her chin in response to his brusqueness. ‘What are you doing here?’

Jag glanced at the photo of her brother in his hand before flicking it onto the coffee table. ‘You left this behind.’

Her gaze landed on the photo. ‘Well...thanks for returning it, but you could have left it with the front desk downstairs.’

Ignoring her, Jag raised the flap of her suitcase and peered at the contents. ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’

Frowning at him, she crossed the room and slammed it closed. ‘That’s none of your business.’

Deciding that he’d wasted enough time humouring this woman, Jag gave her a look that usually sent grown men into hiding. ‘I asked you a question.’

This close, he dwarfed her in height and form, but her instincts for survival must have been truly lost because she still didn’t move back from him.

‘And I asked you to leave,’ she shot back.

Jag’s lip curled. He would have thought her much braver than she looked if not for that pulse point throbbing like a battering ram at the base of her neck.

‘I’m not leaving.’ His voice held a dark warning. ‘Not before you’ve told me everything you know about your brother.’

‘You do know my brother, don’t you?’ Finally she took a quick step backwards. ‘Do you also know where he is? Did you lie about that?’

‘I ask the questions. You answer them,’ he stated coldly.

She shook her head. ‘Who are you?’

‘That is not important.’

‘Do you have my brother?’ Her voice held a fine tremor of panic. ‘You do, don’t you?’

Jag’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘If I had your brother, why would I be here?’

‘I don’t know.’ Those cinnamon-brown eyes were riveted to his. ‘I don’t know what you want or why you’re here.’ She swallowed heavily and Jag felt his chest constrict at her obvious fear. The need to soothe it—the need to soothe her—took him completely by surprise.

Knowing this would go a lot easier if she were relaxed he tried for a conciliatory tone. ‘There’s no need to be afraid, Miss James. I merely want to ask you some questions.’

His saying her name seemed to jolt something loose inside of her. He saw the rise of panic in the way her eyes darted to the side, clearly searching out an avenue of escape. Before he could think of how to placate her, to put her at ease, she darted, quick as a whippet, towards the hotel room phone.

If he’d wanted to alert hotel security to his presence he’d have called them himself and he had no choice but to stop her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and lifting her bodily off the ground.

She fought him like a little cat with its tail caught in a door, her nails digging into his forearms, the towel around her head whipping him in the face before falling to the ground.

‘Keep still,’ Jag growled, wincing as her heel connected with his shin. For a little thing she had a lot of spunk in her and if he wasn’t so irritated he’d be impressed. ‘Dammit, I’m not—’ Jag grunted out an expletive as her elbow came perilously close to connecting with his groin.

Deciding to put an end to her thrashing, he spun her around to face him and gripped her hands behind her back, bringing her body into full contact with his. Her flimsy robe had become dislodged during the struggle and this new position put her barely constrained breasts flat up against the wall of his chest. His traitorous body registered the impact and responded as if it belonged to a fifteen-year-old youth rather than a thirty-year-old man who was also a king.

She panted as she glared up at him, her wet hair wild around her flushed face. Jag’s breath stalled. Like this, with her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her breathing ragged, she looked absolutely magnificent. And that was absolutely irrelevant.

‘I’m going to put you down,’ he said carefully. ‘If you run again, or go for the weapon in your handbag, I’ll restrain you. If you stay put this will be a lot easier.’

For him at least.

Her fulminating glare told him she didn’t believe him, but at least she’d stopped struggling.

He shook his head when she remained stubbornly silent and released her anyway. He was twice her size; if she ran again he’d stop her again. Only he’d prefer not to. It was most likely due to the stress of his sister’s disappearance, but being this close to Regan James was playing havoc with his senses.

‘Where is your phone?’

He’d check to see if she’d received any calls during the day and move on from there. He glanced into her angry face when she didn’t immediately answer. By the set of her jaw she had no intention of doing so.

‘Miss James, do not infuriate me again by making this more difficult than it has to be.’

‘Infuriate you! That’s rich! You follow me to my hotel, barge into my room and then attack me. And you’re the one who’s infuriated?’

‘I did not attack you,’ Jag said with all the patience of a saint. ‘I restrained you and I will do so again if you run again. Be warned.’

She folded her arms across her chest, a shiver racing down her body. ‘What do you want?’ She lifted her chin at a haughty angle.

‘Not you,’ he grated, ‘so you can rest easy about that.’

She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him and he could hardly blame her after the way he’d handled her. Still, it was true. He preferred his lovers sophisticated, compliant and willing. She was none of those three. So why was he so affected by her?

‘Take a seat,’ he growled, ‘so we can get down to what it is that I do want. Which is information about your brother.’

When she remained stubbornly standing Jag sighed and sat himself.

‘A week ago your brother wrote to you. Have you spoken to him since?’

‘How do you know he wrote to me?’

‘I ask the questions, Miss James,’ he reminded her with forced patience. ‘You answer them.’

‘I’m not telling you anything.’

‘I would seriously advise you to reconsider that approach.’ His voice was steely soft. She might not know it but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to find his sister, and the reminder that this woman’s brother had her reignited his anger. She looked at him as if she wanted to bite him and he felt another unbidden surge of lust hit him hard.

‘No, I haven’t heard from him,’ she finally bit out.

‘What made you come to Santara?’

Her lips compressed and for a moment he thought she might defy him again. ‘Because he lives here. And I was worried when he didn’t answer his cell phone.’

‘He did live here.’ He wasn’t going to for much longer.

She shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t move without telling me.’

‘I take it you’re close.’

‘Very.’

The soft conviction in her voice jolted something loose inside his chest. He had once been that close to his own siblings. Then his father had died in a light-aircraft crash that had made him King. There hadn’t been time for closeness after that. There hadn’t been room for it.

‘What do you know about what your brother has been up to lately?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Really?’ He watched the flush of guilt rise along her neck with satisfaction.

‘I don’t,’ she said, shifting from one foot to the other, her eyes flashing fire and brimstone at him as she fought her desire to defy him. He would have been amused if he didn’t find her audacity so invigorating. So arousing.

‘I mean, I know that he was enjoying work, that he liked to explore the countryside on weekends, that he had just bought a new toaster oven he was particularly proud of, and that he had a new assistant.’

‘A new assistant?’

‘Yes. Look, I’m not answering any more of your questions until you answer mine.’ She planted her hands on her hips, inadvertently widening the neck of her robe. ‘Why are you so interested in my brother?’

Dragging his gaze up from her shadowy cleavage, he savagely tamped down on his persistent libido. ‘He has something of mine.’ His jaw clenched as he wondered how Milena was. Whether she was okay, or if she was in trouble. If she needed him.

‘He stole from you?’

The shock in her voice pulled his mouth into a grim slash. ‘You could say that.’

* * *

Regan noted the subtle shift in his muscles when he answered her, the coiled tension that clenched his jaw and his fists at the same time. Again she thought of a mountain lion ready to spring. Whatever her brother had taken it was important to this man. And that, at least, explained his interest in Chad. But, while her brother had gone through a couple of rough years after their parents died, he wasn’t a bad person. He was smart, much smarter than her, which was why she had worked so hard to make sure he finished high school, finally fulfilling his potential with a university degree in AI at the top of his class. An achievement that had brought him to this country that was, from the little she had seen, both untamed and beautiful.

Much like the stranger in front of her who left her breathless whenever he trained his blue gaze on her as if he was trying to see inside her. Possibly she hated that most of all; the way her body responded to his with just a look.

He was watching her now and it took all her concentration to ignore the sensations spiralling through her. If he hadn’t touched her before, grabbed her and held her hard against him it might have been easier.

Regan’s nipples tightened at the memory of his arm brushing over her. He was built like a rock, all hard dips and plains that had been a perfect foil for her own curves. And she was in a hotel room alone with him. A man who outweighed her by about a hundred pounds.

‘It wasn’t Chad,’ she said fiercely, forcing her mind back on track.

‘It was.’

‘My brother isn’t a thief,’ she said with conviction. ‘You’ve made a mistake.’

‘I don’t have the luxury of making mistakes in my line of work. Which I have to get back to. Where’s your phone?’

‘Why do you want my phone?’

Thick black lashes narrowed so that the blue of his eyes was almost completely concealed. ‘I’ve humoured you enough, Miss James. Where is it?’

He uncoiled from the sofa, all latent, angry male energy, and she instinctively stepped back. He noticed, causing her temper to override her anxiety. ‘First tell me who you are. You owe me at least that for scaring the life out of me before.’

‘Actually I don’t owe you anything, America.’ His gaze travelled over her with blatant male appraisal. ‘I am the King of Santara, Sheikh Jaeger Salim al-Hadrid.’

‘The King?’ Regan clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. The man might have an expensive-looking haircut, now that she could see it without the headdress he’d worn earlier, but with his dark clothing and scuffed boots he looked more like a mercenary than a king. And then another thought struck. Had he been hired to kill Chad? Did he think she would inadvertently lead him to her brother? ‘I doubt that. Who are you really?’