up in a sticky web and docilely expecting the spider.
His heart thumped once and went out to her. If she was as innocent as she appeared, Rylie Hunt had no reason to fear a Kadir.
He simply could not put the picture she made sitting there, her whole body trembling, together in his mind with a Taj Zabbar spy.
When he got closer, two bloodred spots appeared on her cheeks and tears backed up in her eyes. For a moment Darin’s only thoughts were of calming her by taking her in his arms. Instead, he slid into the lone empty chair at her table with his back to the corner.
But it was all he could do not to reach out and cover her quivering hands with his own.
“Hello,” she said in a shaky voice. “I wondered if you would really show up.”
“I’m here.” He nodded at the waiter to get his attention and ordered himself a sparkling water and Rylie a glass of pinot grigio, hoping the lighter drink would calm her nerves without sending her into some alcoholic stupor.
After the waiter acknowledged the order and left, all was quiet at their table and Darin took a moment to look around the club. Rylie had put them in the best possible spot for quiet conversation. No one around them was paying any attention.
A couple of young lovebirds at the closest table, who might have been near enough to hear what was being said, were kissing and whispering with their foreheads touching together and their hands touching every where else. Impervious to all around them. Darin was almost jealous of the way they blocked out the world. His relationships were never so intense.
Bringing himself back to his immediate surroundings, Darin felt confident enough that he and Rylie were isolated in the middle of a crowd. They could talk freely.
“Why?” Her voice was a bit stronger, a bit lower than yesterday.
Shaking his head at the out-of-place question, he was beginning to wonder if that explosion had affected her mind.
“Why are you here?” she blurted before he could say anything. “I wouldn’t think a Kadir would be willing to talk to a Hunt.”
Surprised by the question, but interested in where she was going with this line, he chuckled and gave her a polite nod. “Now it’s my turn to ask—why not? You don’t have plans to do me harm, do you?”
She didn’t answer, but before the lull in the conversation dragged into an embarrassing void, her wine and his water arrived. Her lack of a response, to both his question and his companionable attitude, did nothing to fill him with confidence. He had expected either a lie or an accusation. She confused him with a simple blank stare.
Rylie took a sip of wine and kept on staring at him. He felt as though he were a rat being studied in a scientific experiment, and he wasn’t crazy about the idea. Being too closely scrutinized had to be bad for covert operations. The longer she stared, the more he wondered if she was, in fact, working for the Taj Zabbar.
A spark appeared in her eyes. But before Darin could figure out if that spark meant a change of mood or something more dangerous, she asked, “Would you mind telling me about the Kadir and Taj Zabbar feud?”
In the middle of lifting his water to his lips, Darin choked, spilling the drink down the front of his button-down shirt.
“What did you say?” he sputtered. “Who told you anything about the Taj Zabbar?”
Leaning in toward him, she hurriedly dabbed at his chest with a paper napkin. Tiny smile lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. It was the first easy expression he’d seen on her face and the casualness of it made her glow. How beautiful would she be if she ever actually laughed?
He couldn’t imagine, but the mere idea made him want to see for himself.
Before Darin could give her an automatic grin, he ordered up the covert operative inside him and brushed her hands away. “Forget the shirt. The water will dry. Tell me what you know about the Taj Zabbar.”
“All I know is what a friend read on the Internet.” She sat back in her chair and looked as though she was poised to run. “The Taj Zabbar is in control of their own country again after nearly five hundred years of being oppressed by neighbors. And they apparently hate the Kadir family for some reason, but I can’t find out why.”
When he said nothing, she continued, “I do know the Kadirs weren’t the ones who enslaved them. You folks don’t even have your own country, do you? Why would they carry a grudge against your family?”
Under her shower of questions, Darin felt his jaw and shoulders tightening. He tried to relax. Beyond the obvious lust, what was it about her that so intrigued him?
If this was some kind of game, he would play along until he was satisfied she wasn’t working for the enemy.
“I suppose I can tell you the family legends of the Taj Zabbar feud. But then I have a question or two for you. Do you promise to answer truthfully?”
“Why should I?”
“Because otherwise this conversation is over. I have business matters that need attention.”
Her lip jutted out and her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Maybe. But I reserve the right not to answer.”
She frustrated him beyond belief. “We’ll see about that.” He tried to find some emotion he could pin down in her eyes, but all he found was hunger.
“Wait a second.” He lifted a hand, palm out. “I’ve decided there is one more condition. I’m going to order something for you to eat and I want you to eat every bite—or else no more conversation.”
Her mouth gaped open. “What is with you and the compulsion to feed me?”
“It’s just your tough luck that you picked this Kadir to harass. I won’t be responsible for you collapsing from hunger while you’re with me. And you look like you could be blown over by a light breeze. Is it a deal?”
“Fine,” she muttered. “Do you think this place serves salads?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t I look like I need to diet?”
Nearly done chowing down on the huge bowl of pasta and seafood Darin had insisted she order, Rylie was trying to calm her racing mind. For the last thirty minutes, Darin had been almost overly polite. Talking casually about the chill in the air or the newly budded spring blossoms on the trees seemed bizarre. The evening was starting to feel like a date, except that his eyes kept darting around the room as if he were expecting someone else to show up.
Somehow over the last twenty-four hours, Rylie’s anger toward the Kadirs—or at least toward this Kadir—seemed to have subsided. She tried to dredge up a chunk of that old hatred, but all she came up with was curiosity.
She dropped her fork and blotted her mouth with a napkin. “Done. Will you—please—tell me the story of the feud now?”
“It isn’t a true feud. Feuds take two parties. The Kadirs have not held a grudge against the Taj Zabbar—in the past.”
The way he added that last part was curious. She made a mental note to ask about it later. But in the meantime, Darin sat back in his chair and sipped his sparkling water as if he was done talking. Like hell.
