Heart of the Dragon, Page 2

  She reconsidered that choice when he was seated beside her on the sofa. He lounged back, sinking into the shimmering silk pillows with arms propped on them as if he were on a throne. Rebecca found her knee against his. Moving it would admit that she felt uncomfortable. She sat back in her corner of the sofa and crossed her legs away from him. Now her other knee was against his. She gave up.

  “I want to see Ms. Vatan,” she said flatly, laying her satchel on her lap and unbuttoning the latch. “Are you her assistant?”

  “No, I’m her bodyguard.”

  Rebecca stared at him. “Bodyguard?”

  “Security coordinator, if you prefer,” he amended. “I perform a variety of services.” He smiled, and she caught a flash of predatory white teeth. Mayura Vatan’s lover, I bet, she thought instantly. An electric snap of curiosity and envy shot through her.

  His lips were full, his mouth wide. It could have been a fantastically sensual mouth—and must be, when he was doing something with a woman besides trying to intimidate her—but right then it had a sarcastic tilt at one corner. He lifted a hand slightly, addressing her. “Are you a dangerous woman, Ms. Brown? Does my client need protection from you?”

  Rebecca thought he was teasing. There was just enough humor in his tone to make it possible. But also enough warning to bring her anger to full bloom. She clenched her satchel with both hands and spoke between gritted teeth. “I’ve said this about a dozen times. Now I’ll tell you. Maybe someday, someone will believe me. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  “You realize, surely, that a claim such as yours, against a young woman of wealth and prestige—”

  “I’m not making a claim against anyone. I’m trying to make someone believe the truth. I just want to meet Mayura Vatan.”

  “Because?” he asked, and let the word hang expectantly, as if he hadn’t already been briefed on the whole story.

  “Because she and I are half sisters!”

  Kashadlin Santelli’s eyes narrowed. It appeared that hearing this outrageous-sounding statement from her own lips only confirmed his opinion of her—and that opinion wasn’t good, she could tell. “I’m fascinated,” he said dryly. “Please go on.”

  “What’s the point? You’re only the latest in a long line of Vatan family employees who’ll smile politely and never believe a word I say.”

  “No. You see, I’m the one who determines whether you’re a threat to her. Frankly, the family has given me the authority to do whatever I think best about you. Who knows? I might decide in your favor.”

  “My objective is to meet my half sister and give her a message. I’d like to learn a little about her, too, because I don’t have any brothers or sisters except her, and I learned about her only a few months ago. But if I can only give her the message, that’ll be enough.”

  “I could pass this mysterious message along.”

  “No. I want to meet her myself.” Rebecca looked at him pensively. “The message is from my—that is, our—father.”

  “Who is now deceased, I understand.”

  She nodded. A twinge of grief made her look away; she felt exposed and vulnerable. “He died last April.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She died when I was a child.”

  “And so you’re all alone, and perhaps in need of money? Is that why you came to Thailand on this strange mission of yours?”

  Because she’d been raised to hold her temper, she stifled an urge to hit him with her satchel. Instead she rose sternly, tossed the satchel onto his desk, along with her purse, and stood facing him with her hands clasped behind her back. “You don’t even know me,” she said in a slow, even voice that shook with anger. “I don’t need any money. I didn’t come here to get money. I came here to meet my blood relative and tell her about our father. I’ve brought pictures of him, mementoes, things I thought she ought to see.”

  Kash silently congratulated her on her dignity. He slid forward on the plush sofa and steepled his hands under his chin, never taking his eyes off her. In her white blouse and skirt she stood out among the dark office colors. The lamps lit her dramatically, bringing something unfathomable to her smooth, pretty face. He held his breath, studying her. There was a timeless quality about her that made him think of a classic painting. Something basic and strong. A man could read an infinite number of interpretations into her, and find something new each time.

  There was nothing remarkable about her—no heart-stopping beauty in her face, no extraordinary curves under her neat and proper clothes, but she was, nonetheless, fascinating. Something about that open, utterly uninhibited smile she’d given him at first, he thought. Or maybe it was just that her act was so good, so—he searched for a word to describe her—so wholesome.

  “How old are you?” he asked abruptly. “In comparison to Ms. Vatan, I mean.”

  “I’m three years younger than she is. Twenty-six,” she said sharply. “Wait a minute—don’t change the subject. About my money situation, I’m not rolling in gold, but I have a comfortable income. In case none of your people have told you yet, I draw cartoons for a living. I’m good at what I do, and I have a syndicated strip that runs in papers all over the Midwest. So I didn’t come here to mooch off the Vatan family.” She started toward her satchel. “I brought a sample.”

  He stood and raised a hand. She halted. “I’ve seen your work. The sample you left with Mr. Prasartthong at the Vatan offices. Your work is unique.”

  Unique? Rebecca thought with annoyance. The way he said it, it wasn’t much of a compliment.

  “I only glanced at the cartoons,” he confessed, cocking a brow at her and smiling slightly. “I’m not a good judge of such things.”

  “Are you a good judge of people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t you give me a chance?” She gestured toward herself with outspread hands. “I don’t dress like a minister’s old-maid daughter so people will think I’m a sexy, dangerous babe in disguise.”

  For the first time he laughed. Rebecca listened closely to the low, throaty sound and found it both sinister and erotic. Her skin absorbed it and tingled. He walked toward her, and she stood rooted in place, even when tiny muscles in her stomach were quivering in resistance.

  He halted close enough to touch her. She dropped her hands to her sides, realizing that they gave the impression of reaching for him. But she gazed up at him without wavering. His eyes were the color of dark honey, shadowed by thick black lashes that curled up at the tips. She found herself mesmerized by those soft, curving lashes, which were so out of place among the harder lines of his face.

  That face held emotions she couldn’t decipher, and his own silent scrutiny of her made the tension worse. She rarely wore makeup other than a dab of lipstick and eye shadow, and didn’t worry about the effect. No one had ever called her ugly, and if men didn’t beat a path to her door, well, she didn’t want them crowding her doormat anyway. She had more important concerns, like making a living. Thousands of people tried to sell cartoons; only the most dedicated were successful.

  But Kashadlin Santelli’s shrewd, overtly masculine attention made her want to touch her face and discover what fascinated him, whether it was good or bad. “I’ll find out exactly who and what you are,” he told her. “And I hope you’re what you claim to be.”

  She exhaled roughly. “I am.”

  “A minister’s old-maid daughter? Is that what you are?”

  “That’s part of what I am, sort of. Yes, my dad was a Methodist minister. A retired army chaplain. When he was in the army, he was stationed in Thailand for several years. Back in the early sixties.”

  “So that’s where your bizarre story begins.”

  “Bizarre? At least you didn’t call it ‘insane,’ which is what one of the Vatan executives said. I’m progressing.”

  “You’re aware, of course, that Ms. Vatan’s father was a British Army Officer who was killed in a military accident not long after her mother died?”

&
nbsp; “I’m aware that everyone believes that story, but it’s not true.”

  “Because your father, a retired army chaplain in Iowa, told you a different story, about the heiress of a very well known Thai silk company?”

  Rebecca leaned toward him, clenching her fists at her sides. “Because when he was dying, my father told me about his first wife and their daughter, whom he loved very much. He wasn’t the kind of man who lied.”

  “Only the kind of man who could desert his Thai wife and daughter then?”

  “He didn’t desert them!” she said loudly. Kashadlin Santelli didn’t blink, though she was inches from his face. She realized how close she was, and how hard her heart was pounding. “His wife died, and her family took the baby. He was never able to get her back. Because he was a foreigner, he had no rights.”

  “So he waited all these years to mention this lost daughter to you. Why?”

  “That’s for me to discuss with my half sister.”

  Kash’s fascination with her turned to anger. It was time to stop the charade. “No, that’s for you to discuss with me. If I think there’s any merit in your story, I’ll report it to her.”

  “Then I’ll stay in Thailand until I find her myself.”

  “With the help of your employers?”

  “My what?” She stared at him openmouthed.

  He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her arms against his chest. In one swift, graceful move he backed her against his massive desk. She stumbled and sat down on the beveled edge. It pressed into her hips, while his fingers pressed into her arms. Her shout of shock broke off in speechless disbelief as he trapped her with his body. Her precarious balance made her struggle for a foothold; one foot was drawn up, the other slipping on the sleek tapestry rug under the desk. He pressed tightly against her from chest to thigh, with her legs splayed around him. Rebecca’s skirt bunched up between her thighs but was barely a cushion for his lower body. His hipbones pressed hard against her soft flesh.

  “Be still,” he ordered mildly. “I simply want you to pay attention to what I’m about to say.”

  “Where I come from, a man doesn’t assault a woman to make her listen to him.”

  “If this were an assault, it would clearly be painful. I haven’t hurt you. In fact, I guarantee that I won’t hurt you. Which is more than you can promise me about your intentions.”

  “I have no intentions other than to meet my half sister!”

  “You work for the Nalinat family. Admit it.”

  “I never heard of them! Let go of me!”

  “You’re not in America. There’s no place to run to, no one to call for help. If you want to be trusted, you’ll have to trust me, believe every word I tell you.” He bent his head closer, and his dark eyes bored into hers without blinking. “Ms. Vatan had no American army chaplain for a father. She and her relatives have said so, and that’s why no one will allow you to see her. There’s no point. We know you’re lying.”

  “No. I don’t understand why no one will agree with my story, but it’s true.”

  “You’re working for the Nalinats. If not, then you’re a fool for stepping into the middle of a very ugly feud between them and the Vatan family.”

  Furious, she struggled against him. “I wish I knew who these Nalinats are! I’d love to know something that’s supposed to be so important to me!”

  He pulled her tighter against him. “Calmly, calmly,” he commanded. Kash saw the blazing disgust in her eyes. He searched for fear, for lies, also, but found only the fury. He’d already noticed too much that had nothing to do with his work—the opalescent flecks in their blue background, the seductive way the dark brown lashes swept down at the outer corners.

  “I know what the Nalinats are trying to accomplish,” he told her. “I just don’t know what part you play in it. But whatever they’re paying you, it isn’t worth it. This feud is over. Mayura Vatan will never marry their son, no matter how much the Nalinats threaten or harass her. Now why don’t you pack your bags and go back to Iowa—or wherever you’re from.”

  “Tell Mayura Vatan that her half sister is staying in Thailand until she agrees to meet me! I think I can prove the truth, but I’m not going to try with anyone but her. I don’t know anything about this family feud. I swear!”

  “If you stay and if you cause trouble, you’ll answer to me.”

  “What kind of threat is that?”

  Kash debated for a moment. It only mattered that she believe him capable of carrying out his threats, not whether he could stoop so low. “Do you know what can happen to a woman alone in Bangkok? The pleasure trades are not discriminating about the strangers they absorb. People disappear here—they’re sold, bought, or simply bartered for more valuable goods. If you cause me trouble, I’ll make certain you spend the rest of your life in a manner you don’t want to imagine.”

  Her sharp gasp gave him a sense of victory, but at the same time he regretted it. What if she was telling the truth? You were hired to protect Mayura Vatan, not this stranger, he reminded himself.

  “You sound like a B-movie villain,” she said bitterly, though her voice shook a little. “I haven’t done anything wrong, and if you try to hurt me, you’ll get more than you bargained for.”

  “Hurt?” he repeated, smiling harshly. She didn’t give up. Her bluster was impressive. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. There are ways to make a woman behave that have nothing to do with pain.”

  He closed his mouth over hers in a taunting kiss, catching her when her lips were half-open. Kash felt the stiffening of her body in rejection at the same time that the sweet softness of her mouth exploded in his senses.

  She couldn’t want him to kiss her. He knew that. He didn’t expect to feel anything himself, as he twisted against her and her hands sank into his coat sleeves, tugging fiercely. But for one shattering moment he wasn’t trying to make a point and she wasn’t trying to resist. For one instant the kiss was a heated caress, as shocking as the thoughts that cascaded through his mind in an angry, urgent chant.

  Be who you say you are, Rebecca Brown. Be someone special. Please. I want to know what you are, everything you are.

  Suddenly she clamped her mouth shut and wrenched her head away. He saw her stunned expression and flushed skin; he heard the splintered panting of her breath, and his own. He knew why he was upset. He didn’t like the effect she had on him, the element of desire that lay underneath the tension. He was wary of her.

  But she was terrified of him. He saw that in her wide-eyed stare, the way it remained frozen on him, as if she was desperately trying to guard herself against whatever he would do next. Her hands were shaking so hard that he felt the tremors through his clothes.

  Kash looked down at her in speechless realization. He’d never forced a woman to kiss him before. He’d never caused one to fear him physically. For someone with his background to play this kind of game was beyond excuse.

  Self-rebuke shot through him so strongly that his stomach twisted with nausea. He let go of Rebecca Brown and stepped back. Being turned loose caught her off guard. She nearly toppled off the desk.

  “We’ll meet again, unless you leave the country,” he told her in a brusque voice. “You don’t want to meet me again.”

  “I don’t want to even think about you again.” She grabbed her satchel and purse, then shook out her skirt with a violent motion of one hand. Her blue eyes glittered. Even her shoulder-length brown hair seemed to be quivering. “But I’m not leaving Thailand until I meet my half sister.”

  Kash cursed under his breath, but her anger reassured him. He’d rather have her angry at him than afraid. He wished she were telling the truth. Rebecca Brown, successful cartoonist, minister’s daughter, self-proclaimed old maid, and corn-fed wholesome Iowa princess, ought to be for real. The world needed more ordinary, likable people. But there was nothing ordinary about the recklessness she brought out in him.

  “You’ve picked your fight,” he said, as she brushed past him and
went to the doors. “I only hope you change your mind quickly.”

  She opened the door and halted, drawing herself up with dignity as she looked back at him. “When I came here to find Mayura Vatan, I decided to take chances and do things I’ve never done before.” She gave him a bewildered, somewhat despairing once-over. “I thought I’d fall in love with Thailand. I have. But I never expected to find so much ugliness here. You personify it.”

  He bowed sardonically and pressed his hands together in a wai as she shut the door softly behind her. But her words lingered, and troubled him.

  Two

  Rebecca put the finishing touches on a wicked cartoon drawing of Kashadlin Santelli. She’d sketched him on a hotel notepad, while soaking in the bathtub with a hot towel wedged behind her neck. In her drawing he was a fanged dragon in a tailored suit, with a long, scaly tail curled around him. Scribbling violently, she filled in the dragon’s eyes so they’d have the appropriate dark glare to them.

  The phone rang as she was toweling herself off. Rebecca heard it vaguely, not only because her hearing aid lay on the bedside table but because her thoughts were still on her dragon. Glancing at herself in the dresser mirror on her way to the phone, she noted the excited flush on her face and breasts. Rebecca groaned silently in self-rebuke and wrapped the towel around her slender torso. All right, so there was something a little exhilarating about the memory of being grabbed and kissed by him. Dragons were in short supply in Iowa.

  “You ought to be ashamed,” she muttered at herself as well as him, as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” answered a pleasant female voice with a Thai accent. “Ms. Brown?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Mayura Vatan. I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. I think it’s time we met.”