“Naturally,” Honey echoed dazedly. This information put an entirely different slant on the situation. No wonder security had been tightened at the hotel last night. Not tight enough, however, she thought with a little shiver. She’d managed to breach that security herself with ridiculous ease. “Why would anyone want to assassinate Prince Rubinoff?” she asked wonderingly. “He’s not even heir to the throne.”
He shrugged. “It has nothing to do with the politics of Tamrovia. The assassination plot also involves Alex Ben Raschid. Ben Raschid is the heir to one of the richest oil sheikdoms in the world, and Rubinoff, too, controls a sizeable portion of those oil fields. A double assassination would throw Ben Raschid’s country into a turmoil and might instigate an overthrow of the old sheik.”
“I see,” Honey said thoughtfully. An oil-rich sheikdom in political chaos would be ideal strategically for any number of petroleum-hungry countries. “Then, why wouldn’t they accept your help when you told them of the danger?”
“They’re two very independent and self-willed men. They insisted that they could handle any problem that might come up themselves. Their refusal wouldn’t lessen this country’s responsibility if anything happened to them, however. Sheik Ben Raschid is inordinately fond of both his grandson and Prince Rubinoff. It would be sure to trigger an international furor.”
“I can see how you’d want an agent actually occupying the suite,” Honey said soberly. “But I still don’t see why it has to be me. I’m sure it wasn’t protection that Lance Rubinoff had in mind when he arranged for you to contact me.”
“So am I, Miss Winston,” Davies said dryly. “You’re a very attractive woman, and, considering His Highness’s reputation, I’d be a fool if I didn’t realize where his true interests rest.” He hesitated for a moment before adding deliberately, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” Honey said indignantly, her face flushing angrily. “I have no desire to spend the next few weeks dodging passes from one of the most disreputable playboys in the world.”
“I’m afraid that’s your problem, Miss Winston,” Davies said coolly. “You’re being hired for certain specific duties, and how you accomplish them is your own business. That also goes for any impediments you might encounter along the way. This is too important to us to allow you the option of refusing. Play along with us and we’ll not only throw other choice plums in your direction, but we’ll also make sure the media are aware that you’re a government agent and not Rubinoff’s latest mistress. I don’t think we need to discuss the results of a possible refusal.”
“No, I don’t think we do,” Honey said silkily. “Blackmail threats are so distasteful.”
“Exactly.” Davies allowed himself a small smile. “I assume that we’re in agreement, then?”
Honey nodded. “It appears that I have little choice.”
“None at all,” Davies agreed blandly, rising to his feet. He slipped his notebook into his vest pocket, extracted a card, and handed it to her. “This number will reach me any time, day or night. Don’t hesitate to use it at even a hint of trouble. I want you moved into Prince Rubinoff’s suite by three this afternoon. I hope that will be satisfactory.”
He didn’t give a damn whether it was satisfactory, Honey thought cynically. Beneath that smooth, conventional facade Josh Davies was obviously one very tough gentleman. “I’ll be there, Mr. Davies,” Honey replied. “I’m sure you’d know about it if I weren’t.”
“Yes, of course,” he said composedly. “Though it’s remote at the moment, our surveillance is quite thorough. Good day, Miss Winston.”
“Good day, Mr. Davies,” Honey said, and sighed in resignation.
Honey knocked briskly on the door to the VIP suite and then waited impatiently for an answer to her summons. A frown of annoyance creased her forehead as the delay lengthened. After the elaborate rigmarole that had taken place downstairs at the reception desk, surely it wasn’t too much to ask that she not be kept waiting in the hall like an overeager chambermaid. The reception clerk had taken care to phone the suite to check that she was welcome.
The door was flung open at last, and she was confronted by a grinning Lance Rubinoff, dressed only in a rich brown velvet robe that made his auburn hair burn even more brightly in contrast. “Welcome, Honey,” he said mockingly, stepping aside to let her enter. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
She stared pointedly at the bare muscular chest, with its thatch of springy russet hair, which was revealed by the loosely belted robe. “Yes, I can see that you’re dressed for the occasion,” she said caustically, her chin lifting scornfully. She sailed regally past him into the living room and dropped her cream shoulder bag on the elegant mocha damask couch. “I think we have a few things to clarify, Your Highness,” Honey said briskly. “Under the circumstances we must maintain a businesslike attitude toward each other. I’m here for only one reason, and that’s to protect you. I’m not here to amuse you or entertain you—either in bed or out of it! I hope we understand each other.”
“Of course we understand each other,” Rubinoff said smoothly, his lips twitching. “You’re going to do your best to protect me, and I’m going to do my best to get you into the sack. It’s all very clear.”
Honey’s eyes widened in shock. Had the man no shame? He obviously felt no guilt at all for blackmailing her into this position. “You’re not going to succeed,” she said tersely. “You may think you’re irresistible, Your Highness, but I have an odd fondness for an element of integrity in my men.”
“Lance,” he corrected, a frown wiping the amusement from his face. He straightened slowly and strolled toward her, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet. “I didn’t want to bludgeon you into taking the job, damn it. I told Davies to try everything else first.”
“But you used the whip when you had to, didn’t you?” she charged scornfully, her eyes blazing. “When serfs get out of line, what other course is left to the aristocracy?”
“I used it,” he admitted tightly, his blue eyes flickering. “Hell, yes, I used it.” He stopped only a foot away from where she stood, and she could feel the vibrant heat emanating from his body and smell the heady scent of clean soap mixed with a tantalizing, faintly musky odor. “And I’d use it again without a qualm. Would you like to know why?”
“I already know,” Honey said stormily, trying to ignore the effect his virile closeness was having on her breathing. “You’ve already expressed yourself very explicitly on the subject, and with such delicacy, too!”
“I was joking, for heaven’s sake,” Rubinoff said roughly. “Does everything have to be real and earnest with you?”
“It’s better than never taking anything seriously,” she retorted, stung. “Am I to assume, then, that you don’t want to take me to bed? That it’s all been a complete misunderstanding?”
“Of course I want to go to bed with you,” he said impatiently. “That’s what this is all about. But I had no intention of yanking you struggling and screaming into the nearest bedroom. I was going to give you time to get used to the idea.”
“How very considerate, Your Highness,” Honey snapped. “And what if I have no intention of getting used to the idea? Would you still be so lenient with your humble subject?”
“If you call me that one more time…” Rubinoff began, talking between his teeth. Then he took a deep, steadying breath. “Look, I can see that you could be a little annoyed at the way you were forced into agreeing, but if you’d just listen—”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that royalty doesn’t have to make explanations?” Honey interrupted caustically, ignoring the storm signals in Rubinoff’s eyes. “They just wave their scepters and we lowly plebians fall meekly to our knees.”
“Meekly!” Rubinoff exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “You’re about as meek as a hydrogen bomb.” Suddenly he stepped forward with lightning swiftness, enfolding her in his arms and bending her back in a Valentino-style embrace. Look
ing soulfully into her eyes he crooned tenderly, “I give up, sweetheart; you’re much too clever for me. I was only waiting for you to walk through that door to pounce on you. As soon as they called up from reception, I dashed into the bedroom and threw off all my clothes so that I could ravish your senses with glimpses of my strong, virile body. If that didn’t do the job, I was going to ply you with liquor and cocaine, until you were completely in my power, and then quench my insatiable hunger with your voluptuous form. Now that you’ve found me out, I can confess it all.”
Honey was staring up at him wide-eyed, her eyes fixed in helpless fascination on the intense face so close to her own. “I beg your pardon,” she said belligerently.
Rubinoff stared at her in blank disbelief, then closed his eyes and shook his head wonderingly. “Dear Lord, you’re utterly incredible.” He groaned softly. “You’ve got to be an imposter. How could a private detective be so damn naive?” He opened his eyes and looked down at her, his lips twisting in a wry smile. “I was joking again,” he said patiently, as if to a slightly retarded child.
“Well, how was I to know that?” she asked defensively. “You did take an awfully long time to open the door, and when you did answer it, you weren’t exactly formally dressed.” Her gaze dropped down to his hair-roughened chest, which was now pressed closely to her own. Too closely, she thought breathlessly, because his warmth seemed to pierce the material that separated them and caused a hot, melting sensation in her limbs. She knew she should move away from this travesty of a torrid embrace, but for some reason she felt oddly weak and languid.
“The clerk got me out of the shower when he called to announce you,” Rubinoff said resignedly. “I had to dry off and slip on a robe.”
“Oh,” Honey said weakly. His auburn hair did look slightly damp. “Well, you did say that the only reason you wanted me here was to try to seduce me.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “That’s what you said. Naturally I want to seduce you. You turn me on more than any woman I’ve ever met. But that’s not the only reason I wanted you here.” His eyes twinkled roguishly. “The principle one, but not the only one. I wanted to make amends for Manuela’s idiotic practical joke.”
“By blackmailing me?” Honey asked doubtfully.
“I knew that you probably wouldn’t be persuaded to come any other way,” he said absently, his gaze fixed disapprovingly on her hair. “You’ve bundled up your hair again. Why the hell do you do that, when it’s so gorgeous floating all around you like a silver cape?”
“It’s more professional like this,” she said, feeling ridiculously guilty at his disappointment.
She suddenly realized that she was still being held over his arm in that dramatic Valentino embrace. “Hadn’t you better let me go?” she asked breathlessly.
“If you insist.” He sighed as he pulled her upright, then reluctantly released her and stepped back. Tightening the belt of his robe, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”
“I’ll have a ginger ale, if you have it,” Honey answered as she followed him across the room to the mirrored bar. What was it about the man that kept her constantly in a state of uncertainty? she mused as she perched on a maroon-velvet-cushioned barstool and watched Rubinoff behind the bar deftly pouring her drink. When she had marched into the apartment a short time ago, she’d been determined that she was going to establish barriers even Houdini couldn’t overcome. Yet here she was, accepting a drink and gazing bemusedly at Rubinoff’s intent face as he concentrated on mixing his own bourbon and water. His lashes were ridiculously long for a man’s, she noticed idly. Their russet color was sun-streaked gold at the tips.
Those lashes swept up swiftly as his head lifted, and he handed her a tall frosted glass. “Now,” he said firmly, leaning his elbows on the bar and gazing at her with surprising gravity, “we talk.”
“I believe we’ve been doing that for some time,” Honey said dryly, taking a sip of her ginger ale. “We’ve just not been communicating.”
His lips quirked impishly. “Oh, we’ve been communicating. Perhaps not verbally, but we’ve definitely been communicating.” He held up his hand as she started to protest. “All right, I’ll be as solemn and boringly sincere as even you could wish, sweetheart.” He took a drink of his bourbon and water before setting his glass on the counter. “Let’s enumerate the reasons why you should take the job Davies offered you, shall we?” He held up a long, graceful finger. “One, according to Davies’s report, you need the money.” He held up another finger. “Two, being my bodyguard would be an intelligent career move. Three…” A third finger joined the others. “It’s your patriotic duty as an American citizen to prevent a possible international incident.” He arched an eyebrow inquiringly. “Shall I go on? I’ve got plenty of fingers left if you’re not convinced.”
“I think you’d really be in a quandary by the time you reached that last digit,” Honey said, her lips curving in a reluctant smile. “I think you’ve almost exhausted your stock of arguments now.”
“I’ve left out two of the most important ones,” he said softly as he lowered his hand and covered her own. “It’ll allow me to rid myself of this damn guilt I’ve been feeling ever since I talked to Manuela last night.”
“I don’t have to ask what the last one is,” Honey said dryly.
He frowned. “No, I guess you don’t,” he said tersely. “I’ve been fairly open on that score. Too damn open. I should have tried seduction.” He picked up his glass and took another drink. His eyes met hers as he slowly lowered the glass. “I didn’t want to seduce you, damn it,” he said tautly. “You’re not a woman to enjoy games. There’s not much honesty in the world today, but I think you’re an exception, Honey Winston. You deserve better than that.” His hand tightened on hers, and his gaze was as direct as his tone. “I want you, Honey; I’m going to do everything in my power to make you want me, too. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to try to bulldoze you into anything.” His lips twisted. “Sexual harassment isn’t my style. I’m no Ben Lackland, Honey.”
“You know about that?” Honey’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Davies’s dossier was fairly detailed.” Rubinoff shrugged. “I can see why you’d be wary after such an experience, but I can’t say that I’m flattered at being compared to him.” He grimaced. “I hope that I’m a bit more subtle in my approach than that bastard.”
“I’m sure you are,” Honey said soothingly, amused in spite of herself at the indignation in his face. He looked very much like a cross little boy.
“My reputation may not be exactly pure as driven snow.” His scowl became even darker as Honey choked on her drink at that gross understatement. “But I do not pounce.”
He wouldn’t have to, Honey thought ruefully. That impish and almost overpowering charismatic virility would be potent enough.
“I’d let you set the pace,” Rubinoff went on briskly. “I don’t enjoy unwilling women.”
Had he ever known any? Honey wondered. She hadn’t the slightest doubt that he was supremely confident that he could overcome her resistance in short order. “And what if I remain unwilling?” she asked thoughtfully.
His smile lit the darkness of his face with heart-catching warmth. “Then I have a new experience in store,” he said lightly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a woman for a friend.” His husky voice was coaxing, the blue eyes wistful and appealing. “Will you be my friend, Honey Winston?”
Honey felt a melting sensation in her breast that had no resemblance to the desire he had formerly inspired in her. “And if I still don’t agree with your proposal?” Honey asked quietly.
He sighed resignedly. “Then I guess I’ll just have to resume the blackmail tactics.” His blue eyes twinkled. “For your own good, of course.”
“Of course,” Honey echoed, shaking her head in rueful amusement. The man was utterly impossible. She was beginning to realize that there was a layer of diamond-hard steel beneath that careless exterior. Yet she felt
an odd sense of trust in the man beneath that mask. “Then I’d better give in gracefully, hadn’t I?” she asked lightly.
She was rewarded by a smile so blindingly brilliant that she felt strangely dizzy. “Good girl,” he said briskly, setting down his glass on the counter and coming around from behind the bar to stand before her. “I’m sure that I’ll feel much safer with you in the next room.” He gave her a wistful look. “Of course, I’d feel really secure with you in my bed.” She chuckled and shook her head. “No?” He shrugged resignedly. “I didn’t think so.”
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be very practical in this case,” Honey said lightly. “I’ve never heard that you were fond of ménages à trois, and my duties include the protection of your cousin.”
“Alex?” Rubinoff looked decidedly uneasy. “Now, that might present a few problems.”
“Problems?” Honey asked warily, her gaze narrowed on his face.
He put his hands on her slim waist and lifted her lightly off the stool. “Alex refuses to accept you as his bodyguard,” he said ruefully, then continued hurriedly as she started to protest. “It’s not you personally whom he objects to, you understand. He’d reject anyone hired for the same position.” He turned her gently, his hand at her waist, and began to propel her across the living room, toward a door on the opposite side of the room. “He has no objection to you acting as my bodyguard, however. He thought you were quite charming.”
“How very kind of him,” Honey said ironically, wondering how she was supposed to guard someone when he wouldn’t even acknowledge her as his protector. “I thought men in your position were accustomed to having bodyguards and security men buzzing around you. Why are you and your cousin so adamantly against it?”
“We value our privacy,” Rubinoff said simply. He smiled at her grimly. “And Alex and I were brought up rather differently from what most people would expect. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.”
The Golden Valkyrie Page 4
