One Night in the Orient (10 page)

Nick ordered drinks—champagne for her and a beer for himself. At her incredulous glance he said easily, “You can take the bloke out of New Zealand …”

“… but you can’t New Zealand out of the bloke,” she finished, her sunny gurgle of laughter catching him in some previously invulnerable place.

His sinews tightened and he fought back a memory of the kiss he’d given her. No, the kiss they’d exchanged; she’d been right there with him.

But not for long.

Her laughter had attracted the attention of a couple of young men at the next table. Nick noted their appreciative glances, and for a second he resented their presence so strongly he had to cover his reaction by saying tersely, “I made my first big deal here, and afterwards drank beer in my hotel room to celebrate. Since then I’ve always had a glass.”

“For sentimental reasons?”

“For sentimental reasons,” he agreed.

Siena was astounded, but her response was interrupted by surely the fastest waiter in the world arriving with their drinks.

“So here’s to Hong Kong. And to home,” Nick said evenly, and drank.

Siena sipped the champagne and set her glass down. “Just as well I’m not spending too much time here with you,” she told him lazily. “I could get used to this ambience.”

A couple walked in, the woman tall, slender, exquisitely gowned in something that breathed Paris couture. Pearls hung around her throat, and on one slender finger she sported a gem the size of a canary’s egg.

“Goodness,” Siena said in a stunned voice. “She’s just a tad overdressed, don’t you think? Surely that’s not a diamond? And are those pearls
real?”

Nick didn’t have a chance to answer, because the couple saw them and turned towards their table. He stood, his expression unmoving.

Hoping fervently they hadn’t overheard her comment, Siena fell silent.

“Dear Nick,” the woman said affectionately when they stopped by the table. Her smile didn’t warm the porcelain perfection of her face as her eyes swept over Siena, probably pricing her dress to within a cent. “How lovely to see you here.”

The middle-aged man with the newcomer said, “Nick, dear boy,” in a deep voice, and held out his hand.

After the greetings Nick introduced Siena to the couple, whose names she didn’t recognise. They responded with studied grace, but their attention was bent on Nick.

When they’d left to join a couple on the other side of the dance floor Nick said, “Sorry about that.”

“This is your world,” she said, realising how very much out of place she was in it. Awkwardly she went on, “If I’d known you knew them I’d have been more tactful.”

Nick sketched a smile that held contempt and a touch of cruelty. “You don’t need to be. My friends are a mixed bunch, but they don’t include the Baron and his wife. I don’t like vultures.”

Shocked, Siena blinked. “Oh,” she said lamely.

He said, “He made the money for those jewels from arms dealing. Whenever I look at them I see the wreckage of millions of lives.”

A shiver of distaste chilled through her.

Getting lithely to his feet, he said, “Forget about them. Let’s dance. Can you do ancient dances like the waltz?”

“Of course I can,” she said indignantly. “Mum made sure Gemma and I had dance lessons. But this isn’t a waltz anyway.”

His smile softened. “Just checking,” he said laconically, and took her in his arms.

From being touched by ice Siena was transformed into a being of heat and fire. His nearness set her alight, filling her with a precarious, intense delight that mingled anticipation with a thrill of adrenalin. His arm around her back held her close, but not too close, and one hand enclosed hers. If she lifted her gaze it would linger on his arrogantly jutting jaw and the beautiful, sensual curves of his mouth.

So she kept her eyes fixed on his chest.

Trying to ignore a reckless physical longing, she concentrated on her steps—not that she needed to. Nick danced superbly, his confidence carrying her with it.

Was there nothing he couldn’t do? Siena racked her brains, but couldn’t recall him failing in anything he’d ever tackled.

He looked down at her. “I keep forgetting how small you are. You punch above your weight.”

“I have to,” she said forthrightly. “Otherwise people tend to treat me like a kid. I’m really looking forward to a few wrinkles because they’ll give me some gravitas.”

“You might well be the only woman in the world who is,” he said on a note of irony. “Tell me something: why did you settle for money instead of going through legal channels with your ex-boss?”

Her baffled glance clashed with a survey as cold and dangerous as polar ice. “Mainly because I didn’t want to put Mum and Dad through any sort of court hearing. They’ve saved and worked all their lives to be able to afford this trip, but they’d have stayed behind to support me.” She sent him a direct glance. “Which is also why I agreed to being railroaded into travelling home with you.”

“I know,” he said laconically.

“And a cop I know said that if I didn’t have any proof it would be difficult to get a favourable decision. I had no proof.”

“So how did you manage to extract money from him?”

“He knew that if I did make a fuss it would get around, and the mud would stick. He’s married.” She grimaced. “So he offered me money. I thought he’d give me a cheque, but he didn’t—he gave it to me in cash. I still feel dirty about it, but at least it went to a cause he’d never support.”

“So, apart from losing a sum of money, he gets off scot-free. How do you know he won’t try it with the next nubile woman he employs?”

Crisply—trying to convince herself—she said, “I told him I was going to warn every new employee.”

He laughed quietly. “Simple, but effective. Do you think he’s learned his lesson?”

“I don’t know,” she said reluctantly. “I hope so.”

“You always had a passion for justice, but in this case I think you probably did the best thing. You can’t save the world, and it’s a waste of energy to try. Pick your fights carefully—that’s all you can do.”

“Is that what you do?” Intrigued, she looked up.

Their eyes met and something melted at the base of her spine. A sweetly urgent sensation sizzled through her, spinning her brain into a chaos of thoughts so confusing she missed a beat.

Instantly his arms tightened, pulling her into the lean, contained power of his body. He looked above her head and moved with speed and grace to steer her out of the way of a couple who were so lost in each other they might well have been alone on the floor.

He glanced down, lashes lowering, but not soon enough to hide the glitter of desire in his gaze.

Hunger pierced her with exquisite accuracy in a pulse of headstrong lightning.

It was imperative she break eye contact, but she couldn’t.
Say something,
the last thinking part of her brain commanded.

Anything …

She opened her mouth, but had to swallow to ease her parched throat before she could croak, “Yes.”

Although Nick’s eyes narrowed, he was fully in
command of his voice. “Yes,
what?
Tell me what you want.”

She wished there had been other lovers besides Adrian to give her some experience, some understanding of the rash, insistent tide that clamoured though her with a force far more potent than everyday common sense. It urged her to forget everything but the compelling hunger that fired her blood.

Unable to do the sensible thing and lie, Siena muttered, “I want this.”

But Nick wasn’t going to let her off so easily. “What is
this?”

She dragged in a breath of air. “Craziness.” Her mouth straightened. “But right now it’s the kind of craziness I want.” She paused before adding, “If you want it too.”

Nick didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to—she felt his answer in the leap of his blood against her, the subtle tightening of his big, lithe body. Reckless joy sang a siren song through her, sweeping away any barriers, any second thoughts.

After a moment he said softly, “Oh, I want.”

A desperate delight bubbled up inside her, and a fiercely primal anticipation she’d never felt before.

As they reached their table he said beneath his breath, “Let’s get out of here.”

Siena walked sedately beside him, struggling so hard to contain her emotions she didn’t dare say anything on the way to their suite.

As though recognising this, Nick too didn’t speak.

But once inside the suite common sense made a doomed attempt to rescue her.
What on earth do you think you’re doing?

Going mad, she decided recklessly.
And I don’t care.
Perhaps this might get him out of her system once and for all, with no expectations, no hope of permanence, nothing in mind but pleasure.

And if it didn’t?

I’ll deal with it …

“Having second thoughts?” Nick asked.

How could he be so … so cool? He didn’t sound as though he’d be angry—or even irritated—if she called a halt.

Indecision drove her gaze to his face. It was set in angular lines, his mouth hard, but when she met his eyes—narrowed and predatory—a huge surge of relief washed through her.

She’d truly believed she loved Adrian, and that he loved her. But she’d never felt anything like this in his arms. If she’d been right, then this voluptuous desire wasn’t—
couldn’t be
—love.

If she’d been wrong.

No, she wasn’t going there. Loving Nick was out of the question, but instinct told her she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t take what fate—or destiny, or perhaps her own madness!—was offering again.

Because she wanted Nick so much she could taste the hunger, feel it blazing through her veins, melting her bones, corroding her will with sweet, mind-bending temptation.

A
ND
if he walked out on her again Siena knew she’d cope. No longer a naïve kid, she’d take what she could with no regrets.

“No second thoughts,” she said soberly. “What about you?”

And, even though she was almost certain she knew the answer, her breath locked in her throat.

“None.” Nick examined her with hooded eyes, their shadowed green depths unreadable. “And this time I won’t say I’m sorry and leave you. I’ve felt a heel about it for years.”

“You can stop right there,” she told him. “We were both too young for any sensible behaviour.”

His mouth twisted. “Too immature in my case.”

She didn’t know what to expect—a passionate kiss, perhaps? Something—
anything
—to help banish the last feeble protests of her inconvenient common sense?

Instead Nick put out his hand, and when she took it his fingers closed around hers in a grip that seemed to signify much more than a way to pull her closer to him. It felt like a claim, an assertion of some sort, she thought in confusion, lowering her lashes against his glinting metallic gaze.

He used his other hand to push up her chin. “Open your eyes.”

Siena’s lashes fluttered apart just far enough for her to see his mouth. “Why?”

“So you know who you’re kissing.”

This time her lashes flew up. “I know who you are,” she told him, compelled by the intensity of his gaze. His expression didn’t alter, and she expanded throatily, “You’re Nick, and I want you.”

Raising her free hand, she curved it around the hard line of his jaw, her fingertips caressing the raw silk texture. Tempting excitement sizzled though her, seductively alluring as the sea on a summer’s day.

When his mouth curled into a smile she said in a husky little voice, “And if I want to close my eyes, I will.”

He laughed deep in his throat and bent his head. Shivering with delicious, almost poignant anticipation, Siena felt his breath against her lips when he said, “I asked for that.”

And then his mouth claimed hers, wrenching a sigh from the very depths of her being. She had never felt so utterly safe—or so exposed. Nick’s kiss seared through her, demanding not just surrender but commitment, a complete yielding of herself, of everything she was and could be.

A kind of panic struggled to make itself felt, then died as a flood of pleasure overwhelmed her.

He broke the kiss, and stooped to pick her up. Her eyes opened; she gave him a look she knew had to be dazzled and dreamy, but her voice was slightly astringent when she said, “I can walk.”

“Allow me my fantasies,” he said on a smile that held no humour, and kissed any idea of an answer away.

Siena was so lost in delight that he’d lowered her onto the bed before she swam free of her honeyed, erotic daze and looked wildly around while he turned out the lights, leaving only one lamp to glow softly beside the bed.

Her room. Someone had pulled the sheets back ready for the night, and the linen was cool against the fevered skin of her arms and legs. She kicked off her shoes, hearing them fall to the floor with quiet thuds.

Nick sat down beside her, tanned skin drawn over the powerful framework of his face, his green eyes almost black. Gently he touched her throat, letting his fingertip linger across the skin there. Sinuous rills of exquisite sensation travelled from the point of contact to the pit of her stomach.

He asked in an oddly rough tone, “How does this pretty dress come off?”

“Over my head.” Instead of in her normal voice the words came out in a gruff little mutter.

When he expertly eased the soft material over her head, she wondered with a pang how many previous lovers he’d had to gain such ease and skill.

But he’d always been deft and sure in his movements.

Although the air conditioning kept the suite at a comfortable temperature, she was shivering when the blue frock whispered from her shoulders and landed on the chair.

Nick’s eyes kindled as they took in her lacy bra and narrow thong. Harshly he asked, “Cold?”

She shook her head so vigorously her black curls flew around her face. “Don’t be silly.”

His brows lifted and he made no attempt to touch her. “Shy?”

“A bit,” she said unevenly, unable to hold his gaze.

“Why? You must know you’re beautifully made.”

Colour bloomed through her, and she muttered, “Thank you. I know it’s stupid, but I just feel very bare right now.”