His Stubborn Lover Read online

  Putting on her best smile, Keira stopped in the doorway. “Wow, looks like twenty for dinner.”

  Maela turned a dark-eyed stare on Keira. Her face tightened and for an instant, Keira had the feeling she’d already met this woman—and had made an enemy. She shivered. The older woman’s face relaxed, and Keira could almost believe she’d imagined that instant of enmity.

  Smiling, Maela said something to the young men and walked over to face Keira. “Dinner won’t be until eight. You might want to take a walk in the gardens until then.” She turned away, and Keira knew she’d been dismissed. So much for striking up a friendship.

  Keira deliberately made her way to the library—not the gardens. She spent her time on her smart phone, doing additional background research on the country, its customs, and its uncertain relations with its neighbor in Sumari. It was the sort of stuff anyone might look up; so if anyone was tracking her smart phone, they’d think she was coming up with dinner conversation.

  By the time a bell sounded to announce dinner, Keira’s stomach was growling and she was regretting not having eaten lunch. She rose and stepped from the library in time to see Brock coming downstairs. He’d dressed up in a suit and tie—and Keira almost forgot about food. Brock wore his suits like a second skin. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket. The dark blue of his suit set off his red-gold hair. A faint dusting of beard glowed gold on his cheeks.

  He came to her and offered his arm. “Regretting not eating that candy?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  He took her into dinner. PJ was already here, but Talib wasn’t. “Duty,” PJ muttered, rolling her eyes. The other guest drifted in, including Shira and Khalil. Those two seemed to have eyes only for each other—they looked more like the newest newlyweds, Keira thought.

  They also wouldn’t have noticed a threat if it came in riding a tiger. Keira decided she’d better double their security. The sheikh and Erin were the last to arrive. Scattered applause met them. Sheikh Kamal bowed, but it was Erin who just about glowed.

  Hell, if every woman in this palace doesn’t know she’s pregnant, I’ll eat my Jimmy Choo’s, Keira decided.

  Erin ate next to nothing, but Keira tucked in as if she weren’t a model looking after her figure. A woman next to her watched her take thirds of something that smelled like lamb and mint, and Keira smiled. “I can always throw up later,” she said. The woman turned away, looking horrified. Keira felt eyes on her and turned to see Brock smile and lift his water glass to her.

  The food was better than great—spicy with flavors Keira had never tasted before; she tried everything. She figured out the lamb, rice, and the chicken, but the side dishes stumped her. Most of them had vegetables—and fruits—chopped so finely it was impossible to tell what was in the mix. Some things had been blended or mashed. She tasted mint, garlic, and was that turmeric in one dish? She gave up trying to figure it out and just decided to stuff herself.

  Conversation drifted to the price of oil, to a new shopping center opening, and then to political issues, and the rebels in Sumari. Keira glanced up and saw Erin’s face pale. The sheikh must have seen that, too, for he put his hand over Erin’s, rose, and excused them, asking everyone to please stay and enjoy the rest of the meal.

  Keira glanced at Brock. He nodded and rose to follow the sheikh and Erin. Keira watched them go, and she looked around the table for reactions—but everyone seemed more focused on the dessert being served—something iced with honey.

  Standing, Keira excused herself. She headed to the nearest bathroom, entered, and then cracked open the door. No one followed Brock, or the sheikh, or Erin. Coming out, she saw a flash of black disappear down the hallway, headed toward the kitchen. One of the servers? Dammit, she really needed to know about the help.

  Dinner broke up, and Keira cornered PJ on the terrace. “Well?”

  PJ smiled. “Take a look under your pillow later. Got you everything, but we’ve already been over it—twice. Maybe you’ll find something new.”

  Keira stayed at dinner until her face had just about frozen into a stiff smile. If anyone here harbored any ill will against Erin or the sheikh, they needed to switch careers and head for Hollywood and a few Oscars. These people talked about fashions, oil prices again, and not too much more. She had the impression most of them were about as deep as the reflecting pool in the courtyard—but she was putting on the same kind of act. She didn’t want to write them off, but she’d downgraded every guest to low on her hit list.

  Upstairs, she headed to her room and pulled out the folder PJ had left for her. She’d just opened it up when Brock slipped into her room. She stared at him, eyebrows lifted.

  He stared back. “We need to talk.”

  She leaned back against the plush headboard on her bed. “Isn’t that supposed to be the girl’s line?”

  Chapter 9

  Brock rolled his eyes. He slipped off his jacket, draped it over the back of a chair, and then pulled off his tie.

  “Make yourself at home.” Keira waved at the room.

  He slipped off his shoes. “I plan to.”

  She gave him a wary stare. He came over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re going to blow our cover if we don’t get a little cozier.”

  He saw that instant line of tension around her mouth. “You’ve heard something?”

  He shook his head. “Talib told me we’re acting more like an old married couple than like a guy who can’t keep his hands off his girlfriend. A place like this—where everyone knows everyone—means gossip, and we’re becoming a topic.”

  “Sounds like your problem.” She had her shoes on still, so he pulled them off and pulled her feet into his lap. He could feel the stiffness in her. “What are you doing?” she asked, dropping each word like they were ice cubes.

  “Your feet are cold. Don’t you like this?”

  She tried to pull back, but he kept hold of her ankles. She had to relax. She also huffed out a breath. “Just because we have a cover…and…and a…pull—”

  “A pull? Jeeze, Keira, don’t go all mushy on me.”

  Keira looked him in the eye. “That doesn’t mean we have to act on anything.”

  “Yeah, but we have to act. Talib’s right. We’re going to spook the target and he’s going to go to ground.”

  “I think it’s a her we’re looking for.”

  “Anyone could have been under that hijab the other night.”

  Keira cocked her head to the side. “No. I saw her hands. I saw how she moved. It’s a woman. And she knows Erin’s pregnant.”

  “You know this how? And that means what?”

  Keira shook her head. “I’m not sure. But I’m beginning to think this doesn’t have anything to do with the rebels.”

  He stared at her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She frowned, bit her lower lip, and he told her, “Keira, trust your instincts. Let them take you to the right place. Your best asset is your gut feeling.”

  “Is that how you do things?” She asked.

  He stared at her. With her feet pulled up and her legs bare, she looked more like the kid he’d rescued in that parking lot six months ago. He shook his head. “I don’t want you to ever be sorry you knew me.”

  “What if I end up being sorry that I never did know you?”

  He glanced at her, his heart thudding. He couldn’t have heard her right.

  She wet her lips. “Maybe we need to stop acting, Brock. Do you know I dream about that night sometimes? Only, in my dreams, you don’t take me to Slade. You take me back to your room. I dream about you touching me…about your hand between my legs. I get myself off, but it’s you touching me. Did you know that?”

  He gave a groan, but he didn’t move away from her. He couldn’t. He’d had the same dreams—erotic fantasies about her and him in a dingy motel room. He’d wanted to strip her naked that night, and he still wanted it. Well, they were adults. She knew what she was doing. With his stare locked on hers, he asked, “W
ant some company tonight?”

  “Are you going to regret this, Brock? ‘Cause I’m not going to. Not ever. But if you think this is something you can’t handle—”

  Leaning forward, he shut her up with a kiss.

  ***

  Keira didn’t need any other answer from him. It felt wonderful to have his mouth on hers, his lips hot and wet. His arms came around her and she gave a soft whimper. She didn’t want to break whatever spell had them both entranced.

  He pulled back to rip off his shirt. She traced a path up his neck and along his jaw line with her lips. He turned his head and came back to her. She put her hands on his skin—and traced the small lines of a white scar.

  Pressing her back, he pushed a hand up under her dress. She wiggled until she was lying down. The folder she’d been looking at crinkled. She grabbed it, stuffed it under the pillow. “You’re wearing too much,” she told him.

  “You’re one to talk,” he said, his voice a rumble.

  He pushed away from her, yanked off his pants. She slipped out of her dress and underwear. He came back to her, naked, his body hard and bronzed. She spread her legs for him. She was wet already, she knew. Wet and aching. She could smell her arousal and she could see his.

  He joined her on the bed, caging her with his body and then dropping his head to take her lips in another kiss. He shifted his mouth to her breast. She gasped, and said, “No second thoughts?”

  Lifting his head, he smiled. “Seconds and thirds.” His voice had deepened and it set her insides vibrating. She’d always loved how authoritative his voice could sound, and tonight was no different.

  She brushed a hand through his hair—it felt like silk. “I like it longer.” Looking into his face, she saw the raw desire kindle in his eyes. Her stomach flipped.

  Brock turned so that she straddled him. “What are you thinking so hard about?” He ran the back of his fingers down the line of her throat to her breasts. He didn’t stop there, but kept going, brushing his fingers over the slight curve of her stomach and beyond.

  Keira asked on a moan as she arched into his touch, “What happens in the morning?”

  “We wake up and do our job. Tonight—tonight, I want you. And I can’t walk away, Keira. Not even if this burns us.”

  “Oh, I’m burning. Shut up and put out the fire, Brock.”

  She dug her fingers into the sculpted muscles of his back. He closed his eyes and moaned. Pushing herself up, she held herself over him.

  He caught her hips. “How long has it been for you?”

  Keira knew exactly what he was asking and didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She shrugged. “Way too long. But you’re not just anyone, Brock. I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you; I never want to hurt you.”

  “Sometimes you can’t help it,” Keira said and lowered herself onto him. She leaned forward, her hair draping around them. Their scent mixed—his musky aroma, her arousal, and the scent of lavender from the sheets. She captured his lips in a kiss. Soft lips, she thought, hard muscles. He was so hard—so big. He filled her up, stretched her.

  Raising her hips, she moved backwards to feel his hardness brush against her. She groaned as pleasure swamped her. He steadied her hips. Opening her eyes, she plunged down on him again.

  Brock spread his arms wide. “Do what you will with me.”

  “Oh, I plan to, sailor.” She set up a rocking motion. Head thrown back, she closed her eyes. His hips started to buck under her. Sweat slicked her skin, dripped down her spine. He lifted his head and grabbed her hips. Flipping them over, he pressed her into the mattress. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He set up a pounding rhythm, and she opened to him, pleading with him to go faster and harder.

  The world heated. There was only her and Brock and the pressure building inside. She wanted more of him. She grabbed his ass, raked her nails over his skin. He gave a soft grunt, lifted up, and pushed even deeper. She screamed his name and felt the heat pulsing into her as he spilled into her, his hips jerking, pushing her down. His heated breath brushed her face. His sweat-slicked skin slid over hers.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled onto his side, breathing hard and heavy.

  Too spent to talk, Keira snuggled close. She traced a finger over the hard muscles on his chest.

  Brock gave a low chuckle that she felt vibrate against her chest. “Going to sleep on me?”

  “Hmm…”

  He kissed her forehead. “Be right back.” She grabbed for him, but he slipped from the bed. Body lazy and her mind empty, Keira lay in the rumpled sheets. A warm, wet cloth brushed over her thigh. He turned her and wiped her off.

  “Nice,” she muttered. And it was.

  He slipped back into bed next to her, laying his leg over hers, the coarse hairs tickling. “We still need to talk.”

  Keira gave a groan. “No, we really don’t. I take care of my own protection.” She pried open one eye. “Do you think you’d be a good dad? I ever have a kid, I am going to make damn sure my child is loved and cared for.”

  He smoothed her hair back. “Kids? Where’d that mind of yours go to now?”

  “Sleep. Dreams,” Keira muttered. She curled up tighter against his warmth.

  Chapter 10

  Brock was gone when Keira awoke. The pillow next to her still smelled like him. She put her face into it and breathed in deeply. Her bed smelled like sex, too, and now she wondered if that had been the entire point of last night. Was the sex just part of their cover? Well, she’d had worse excuses to jump into bed with a guy.

  Throwing off the covers, she headed into the bathroom for a hot shower. She needed to wash Brock off of her and get her head back in the game. She found a few aches where she hadn’t had them before, and it was hard to keep a smile off of her face. So what if last night had just been part of their cover? It’d been a great night. No matter what happened next, she’d cling to that memory.

  Pulling on a thick, white terrycloth robe, she padded back to the bed across the deep carpets and pulled out the employee folder. She went through it page by page, but nothing stood out. Backgrounds seemed normal, nothing stood out as a red flag—no family ties to the rebels, no bad habits. It looked as if Maela screened everyone who worked here before they showed up, and that Talib had rechecked everyone again just recently. The guy knew his job.

  Keira headed to the windows and glanced out. Another day in paradise, she thought. Blue skies, bright sun, lush gardens. The air smelled dry today, and the sun burned with a heat you didn’t get in other parts of the world. The only problem was that this paradise might have a snake in it.

  Pulling on underwear, shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals, Keira headed downstairs for coffee. She found food set out in the dining room, on a long sideboard in chafing dishes with small oil lamps under them to keep things warm. She lifted a few lids, saw the usual eggs and bacon, and some dishes she wouldn’t have been able to name, but which carried the lush aromas of spices.

  A stack of pastries that looked as if they’d pack on five pounds with one bite sat under a glass dome. She helped herself to black coffee. Taking her coffee onto the stone terrace, she glimpsed PJ and Talib walking through the garden. They didn’t see her and she stepped back into the shadows, watching them. Talib took hold of PJ’s hand and kissed the back of it—then he leaned in and kissed her.

  A pang shot through Keira. She looked away. She wasn’t jealous of PJ having Talib, but she was envious of their obvious closeness. Her act with Brock wasn’t the same thing. Once this job ended, they’d go their separate ways. Off to another job. For once, her pulse didn’t quicken at the idea. She’d sworn she wouldn’t have any regrets, but now one was staring at her—she’d regret having to give up Brock. Which meant she was going to work this cover for all she could get out of it. If they only had a short time, why not make the most of it?

  She drank her coffee and headed off to find Brock.

  He wasn’t in his room, and she wonde
red if he was checking out the security feeds. She’d glimpsed the cameras in all of the public rooms—beautifully hidden behind carved wood; but every camera needed a view, which meant you could spot them if you knew what to look for in the places that gave the best view of the room.

  She ran across Maela, dressing down a couple of upstairs maids. She had no idea what the poor girls had done, but Maela seemed to be verbally stripping off their hides for some misstep. Maela saw her, cut off her sharp rebuke, and dismissed the girls. She paused beside Keira. “The young—more interested in gossiping than working.”

  She gave Keira a challenging stare, as if defying her to deny such a thing. What, did Maela think Keira was lazy, too? Keira straightened, too aware she’d done nothing to give this woman a good impression of her. But, then, her job was to look spoilt and lazy. She slumped again. “Don’t tell me they’ve been eyeing my boyfriend. If they have, they deserve what they got.”

  Maela’s eyes narrowed. She turned and left. Keira stared after her. Maela seemed to think this palace was hers to run, and maybe it was. But was that a good thing?

  Since she couldn’t find Brock, Keira took a swim. She ate lunch with Erin, PJ, and Shira—the sheikh had been called into the city for several meetings and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Keira used the time to do a little gossiping of her own. She also kept an eye on the staff who served them.

  Lunch, unlike dinner, was informal. A buffet was spread out on the terrace. Guests came and went. Maela scowled at Erin’s choices of food and had something special brought out from the kitchen. Erin only picked at it, and Keira leaned close to her. “Morning sickness?”

  Erin’s cheeks pinked. “Morning, noon, and some of the night. I’m hoping it’ll pass soon.”