Bound To Her Desert Captor. Michelle Conder

      ‘Okay, thanks for your help,’ she said, giving them all her stern schoolteacher look before turning her back and quickly moving to the next table.

      Which, unfortunately, was his table.

      Her gaze skimmed across the table with the untouched hookah on it to his hands folded across his lean abdomen. From there it travelled up the buttons of his shirtfront to his tanned neck and square jaw. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, Regan vaguely registered a sensual unsmiling mouth, a hawk-like nose and the most piercing sapphire-blue eyes she had ever seen. And that was as far as she got. As if she was caught in the crosshairs of a predator’s glare she stood frozen to the spot, her gaze held prisoner by his. His eyes glittered with a lethal energy that was startling and Regan had the sudden realisation that she’d never come across a more dangerous-looking or unapproachable man in her life. Her heart palpitated wildly inside her chest as if she’d just stepped in quicksand and was about to sink.

      Run! echoed throughout her head but, try as she might, she couldn’t make her body obey. Because not only was he dangerous-looking, but he was also sinfully good-looking, and, just as that thought hit, so did a wave of unbridled heat that raced through her whole body and warmed her face.

      Good lord, what was she doing noticing his looks at a time like this?

      She blinked, her sluggish brain struggling to register her options. Before she could come up with something plausible he moved, kicking the chair opposite him away from the table and blocking her avenue of escape. The sound of the chair scraping across the stone floor made her jump, and once more her heart took off at a gallop.

      ‘Sit down.’ His lips twisted into a mocking smile. ‘If you know what’s good for you.’

      His voice was deep and powerful, commanding her to obey even though she knew it was stupid to do so.

      This close she could see that he was far more physically imposing than she’d first thought, and completely, unashamedly male. He looked strong enough to be able to pick her up one-handed and take her wherever he pleased. With a start she realised she might not be completely against the idea. A ripple of excitement coursed through her, making her feel even more light-headed than the jet lag.

      This was insane.

      This thinking was insane. She did not react to men like this. Especially not men who looked as if they meandered on the wrong side of the law and won. Every time. Still, what could possibly happen to her in a bar full of patrons? Patrons who were still watching her with curious eyes.

      Driven by the need to get out from under those curious glances, she chased off the inner voice of doubt and did as the man suggested, taking a seat and perching her handbag on her lap as some kind of shield between them. He glanced at it as if he’d guessed its purpose and his lips tilted into a knowing smirk.

      Feeling exposed under his steady gaze, she somehow defeated the urge to jump back up and leave. It wasn’t as if she had many alternatives right now. After this bar she had nowhere to go except back to her hotel room, and then possibly back to Brooklyn. Defeated. She wouldn’t do that. Ever.

      ‘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