A Golden Betrayal

He decided to be honest. “If we were in Rayas, I’d tie you to my bed.”

Her eyes went wide at his blunt words, and her jaw dropped a notch.

“A hundred years ago,” he continued, letting his fantasies roam free, “I would have tied you to my bed the night you kissed me.”

“Lucky for me times have changed. And it was you who kissed me.”

“Maybe.” He let his gaze do a sweep of her sexy body. “But I could have kept you happy in my bed.”

“Does your ego know no bounds?”

“I’m told I’m an excellent lover.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and it had the unfortunate result of highlighting her cleavage. “By women you can have thrown in a dungeon?”

“Mostly,” he allowed with a shrug, struggling to tear his gaze from her breasts. It had never occurred to him to care that his lovers might be humoring him.

“You should try it someday with someone over whom you don’t have the power of life and death.”

“Thanks for the advice.” He wanted that someone to be Ann. Right here, right now.

“See if you still get a gold star then,” she continued to taunt him.

“Unless you’re volunteering for the job, I suggest we change the subject.”

“What?”

He raised his brows and pinned her with a smoldering, meaningful stare.

She swallowed. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

Her arms shifted so that she was hugging herself. “I didn’t mean...”

“My father is gravely ill.” Raif ruthlessly changed the subject. “The missing Gold Heart statue has caused him much distress.”

Ann’s voice became small. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Raif’s chest went unexpectedly tight. He had to struggle to keep the emotion from his voice. It was odd. He talked about his father all the time without reaction. “The statue’s return would give the king peace of mind.”

Ann touched Raif’s arm. “I would if I could.”

His gaze went to her pale, delicate hand, then lifted to her face. Her expression was open, honest and compassionate. It was difficult to believe she was a thief.

“Then do it,” he rasped.

“I can’t.” Her eyes took on a sheen of tears.

His arm snaked around her waist, and he leaned down. “But, you can.”

“Raif...” Her soft voice trailed away.

Her lithe body was warm against his. Her curves molded to his angles. A throbbing pulse moved inexorably through his body, as her lavender perfume teased his senses.

He was going to kiss her.

He was going to kiss her again, and there was no force on earth that could stop him.

He anchored her head with his hand, reveling in the feel of her wispy blond hair. He leaned in, anticipating the sweet taste of her hot lips.

“California,” she gasped.

He halted. “What?”

“Roark said he was going to California.”

Raif forced himself to ease back. “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that.”

“Los Angeles.” She struggled against his hold. “He usually stays at the Santa Monica Reginald.”

“You’re lying.”

She shook her head.

“You’re giving me Roark.”

“Yes.”

“To avoid a kiss.”

“The last one got me into quite a lot of trouble.”

Raif let his hand slide from her soft hair. Their last kiss had put him in a whole lot of trouble of a different kind. He couldn’t get her out of his head, and his attraction to her was messing with his focus on the good of his country.

“Santa Monica?”

She nodded, eyes clear, gaze direct. “The Reginald.”

“And, he has the statue?”

“He’ll tell you all about it.”

Raif hesitated. “That was too easy.”

“It wasn’t remotely easy for me.”

Again, he gauged her expression.