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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?’
She saw instantly that laughing at this man was the wrong thing to do. His blue gaze pinned her to the spot, his body going hunting-still. ‘I am the King,’ he said coldly, taking a step towards her.
‘Okay, okay.’ Regan held her hand out to ward him off. ‘I believe you.’ She didn’t but he didn’t need to know that. As long as he left—and soon—that was all she needed him to do.
She forced her brain to forget about the perfect symmetry of his face and start thinking more about surviving. He was clearly a madman—or a potential killer—and she was alone with him in her room.
Fresh fear spiked along her spine. She tried to remember that everyone said she had a gift for communicating but this was no recalcitrant seven-year-old with a smartphone hidden beneath his desk.
‘You think I’m lying?’ he said softly.
‘No, no.’ Regan rushed to assure him, only to have him bark out a harsh sound that was possibly laughter.
‘Unbelievable.’
He shook his head and Regan briefly measured the distance from her to the door.
‘Too far,’ he murmured, as if reading her mind. Probably not difficult, since she was staring at the door as if she was willing it to open by itself. Which she was.
‘Look—’
He moved so quickly she barely got one word out before he was in front of her. ‘No more questions. No more games. Give me your phone or I’ll tear everything apart until I find it.’
