Modern Romance December Books 5-8. Дженнифер Хейворд

at them. Close enough for her to detect his minty breath, and to register the fact that he didn’t like shaving, he was an incredible lure with those incredible black eyes burning into hers.

      ‘My name is Tadj.’

      ‘Ah—like the Taj Mahal,’ she said, relaxing.

      ‘Tadj with a D,’ he explained.

      ‘Oh.’ Her cheeks flamed up again. ‘I suppose you hear that dozens of times.’

      ‘Some,’ he agreed.

      The killer smile had returned to his face, but she settled for regarding him coolly. With his thick black hair curling wildly around cheekbones that would have sent Michelangelo crazy for his chisel, she guessed he must be used to admiration, and was determined not to add to it, though couldn’t help herself wondering what that sharp black stubble would feel like if he rasped it very gently against her skin. Imagining her rounded curves accommodating his impressive hard-muscled frame led her to shift position on the bench seat.

      ‘Tadj,’ she repeated to distract herself fast. ‘Nice.’

      He was still staring at her with that faintly amused expression on his face, which led to one quick thought...melted chocolate, heated gently before being spread liberally over her naked body, for him to lick off. ‘Okay, Tadj with a D, so now I know your name, but not your occupation.’

      ‘That’s right. You don’t,’ he said.

      ‘Cagey,’ she observed, narrowing her eyes. ‘I’m genuinely curious.’

      ‘And I’m genuinely cagey,’ he countered with a scorching look.

      They both laughed and the atmosphere lightened.

      ‘So?’ she prompted, coffee mug hovering in front of her lips.

      ‘So, what? What do you want to know?’

      ‘Let’s start with everything?’ she said.

      ‘We don’t have time.’

      ‘Should I be worried that you’re being so evasive?’

      ‘Here?’ He glanced around. ‘Probably not.’

      But later, she thought. She killed the thought as soon as it sprang into her head. There’d be no later. She’d try another tack to dig for information. ‘So, what brings you to King’s Dock?’

      ‘Old friends and business,’ he said.

      ‘Intriguing.’

      ‘Not really,’ he admitted, sitting back. ‘King’s Dock is a convenient place to meet, that’s all.’ He raised a brow, as if challenging her to ask more questions.

      ‘I must be keeping you from your friends,’ she stated, reaching for her bag.

      ‘You’re not,’ he said, still relaxed, still surveying her as a soft-pawed predator might observe his next meal.

      As they stared at each other, a quiver of arousal tracked down her spine. He was enjoying this, she thought. And so was she. A lot more than was wise. Why had this extraordinary-looking man landed in the middle of an ordinary day? Time to take a tougher line. ‘You sat me down, force-fed me coffee, so now you have to pay for the pleasure of my company with information.’

      ‘You think?’ Few women had ever made him laugh as Lucy did. Being so irreverent and funny was part of her charm. ‘You won’t get round me,’ he warned when she pulled a mock-disappointed face.

      ‘Why not?’ she complained in the same style. ‘Is what you do for a living classified information? Maybe you’re a secret agent,’ she speculated with a lift of her finely drawn brow.

      ‘And maybe I’m a man drinking coffee in a café and minding his own business as best he can...’

      ‘How boring. I prefer my version.’

      ‘I’m in security,’ he admitted finally. This was the truth. One of his many companies was responsible for the safety of some of the most prominent people on the planet. As the ruler of a country it was in his interest to hire the best.

      ‘Aha.’ Sitting back, Lucy appeared to relax. ‘Now it makes sense.’

      ‘What does?’

      ‘Your evasiveness,’ she explained. ‘I’m guessing you handle security for one of the those big fat potentates on their big fat superyachts.’ She angled her chin towards the window, beyond which a line of imposing vessels loomed like huge white ghosts against the steel-grey sky. ‘What’s it like working for the super-rich, mystery man?’

      Her naivety was irresistible, but her innocence compelled him to tell the truth. ‘Actually, I’m one of them.’

      ‘A big, fat potentate?’ she exclaimed, frowning in a way that made him laugh.

      ‘I thought it was the yachts you thought big and fat.’

      ‘You’re being serious, aren’t you?’ she said in a very different tone.

      ‘Your expression does my ego no good at all,’ he admitted.

      ‘Well, this changes things,’ she said, ‘and I can’t help the way I look.’

      ‘Having money changes your opinion of me?’

      She hummed and frowned again. ‘I don’t have an opinion about you yet,’ she admitted honestly. ‘I don’t know you well enough.’

      He would be the first to admit he was touchy about money. His late uncle had plundered the Qalalan treasury, leaving it empty when Tadj inherited the throne. Tadj had built up a bankrupt country brick by brick. Even then, when everything was back on an even keel, a family to whose daughter he’d been engaged since his birth turned up to demand he marry the girl right away. It had cost him a king’s ransom to sort that out. The experience had left him with a horror of state marriages, together with the distinct impression that a mistress was far preferable to a wife. He had to marry one day to provide Qalala with an heir as the constitution demanded, but not yet, and his thoughts regarding taking a mistress in the interim had just taken on a new and vigorous lease of life.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ‘IF YOU’VE MADE so much money out of the security business...’ What was coming next, he wondered as Lucy gave him one of her wide-eyed cheeky, teasing looks. ‘Can I ask you for a loan?’

      He knew this was a joke, but bridled anyway at the possibility that she might be like all the rest. ‘Ten pounds until pay day?’ she pressed blithely, but she couldn’t hold back the laughter, and, sitting back, she said, ‘You should see your face.’

      He adopted a stern look. ‘You’ll get away with that this time.’

      ‘You mean there’ll be a next time?’ Quick as a whip, he thought as she added, ‘That’s assuming rather a lot, isn’t it? How do you know I’ll want to see you again?’

      His groin tightened as he told her, ‘Educated guess.’

      Resting her chin on her hand, she stared at him in a way that made him wish he were clothed in flowing robes rather that snug-fitting jeans.

      ‘Surely, you can run to a miserly ten pounds?’ she pressed.

      He reached for his wallet.

      ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said.

      ‘Can’t I pay the bill for the extra coffee?’

      ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Just bear this in mind, Mr Security Man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anyone’s money. I’m doing fine as I am. Here—let me contribute. Save your money for your next coffee-shop adventure.’

      ‘I doubt there’ll be one.’

      ‘Too