didn’t matter. She would print off another one tomorrow.
JAG STOOD OUTSIDE the door to Regan James’s hotel room and questioned the validity of his actions. He’d been doing that the whole drive over.
After meeting her in the bar it was clear that she knew nothing about her brother’s whereabouts. She also seemed to know nothing about his sister being with him. But then she had grown cagey when he’d probed her about the last time her brother had contacted her, and he didn’t know if that was because her sense of self-preservation had kicked in, or whether she had something to hide.
Regardless, she was his only link to Chad James and she would undoubtedly have a wealth of significant information about her brother that could lead him to find his sister.
A predatory stillness entered his body as he raised his hand to knock at the door. Regan James had been a revelation at the bar. He’d been right when he’d first seen her photo. Her eyes were not brown, they were cinnamon, and her hair was a russet gold that reminded him of the desert sands lit by the setting sun. Her voice had also been a revelation; a husky mixture of warmth and pure sex.
She had evidently reminded some of the other men in the bar of the same thing because Jag had noticed the sensual speculation in more than one male gaze as she had moved through the bar. She had a slender grace that drew the eye and her smile was nothing short of stunning. Even his own breathing had quickened at that first sight of her, and when she’d stood in front of his table, her doe eyes wide and uncertain, he’d had the shocking impulse to reach across the table and drag her into his lap.
It had been a long time since he’d responded to a woman with such unchecked desire and the only reason he was even here was because he’d realised that he couldn’t interrogate her in the bar. As it was, some of his people had started to recognise him despite the fact that he’d shaved off his customary neat beard and moustache. He rubbed his hand across his clean-shaven jaw, quite liking the sensation of bare skin. Instantly the thought of rubbing his cheek along Regan James’s creamy décolletage entered his head and altered his breathing.
He scowled at the unruly thought. It had been a long time since he’d been influenced by his emotions rather than his intellect as well; some might have said never. Milena often accused him of having ice running through his veins, of being inhuman. He wasn’t. He was as human as the next man, as his physical reaction to Regan James earlier had proven.
The fact was, Jag had learned to control his emotions at an early age and he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As a leader it was essential that he keep a cool head when everyone else was losing theirs. He had certainly never let a pretty face or a sexy body influence his decision-making process and he never would.
Irritated that he was even pondering emotions and sex, he raised his fist to bang on the door.
He heard the sound of water being shut off and a feminine, ‘Just a minute.’
He let out a rough breath. Excellent; she was just out of the shower.
The door opened wide and he found himself staring into Regan James’s gorgeous eyes. Seconds seemed to lengthen into minutes as his eyes automatically travelled down her slender form.
‘You!’
‘Me,’ Jaeger growled, his voice roughened by the swift rise of his body at the sight of her in a cotton dressing gown and towel around her head. He pushed past her into the room before she had a chance to collect herself and slam the door in his face.
‘Hold on. You can’t come barging in here.’
Jag didn’t bother to point out the obvious. That he already had. Instead he scanned the small room, looking for any signs that might clue him in as to where her brother might be.
‘Did you hear me?’ She yanked on his arm to turn him towards her and the move was so unexpected, so shocking that he did indeed turn towards her, a frown on his face. Nobody touched him without first being given permission to do so. Ever.
His eyes narrowed as she clutched the lapels of her robe closed, making him acutely aware that she was naked beneath the thin cloth. He wanted nothing more than to wrench the garment from her body and sink into her feminine softness until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be burdened by duty. Until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. But no one could escape destiny and one night in this woman’s arms wouldn’t change anything. Duty and loneliness went hand in hand. He’d learned that from watching his father.
Savagely tamping down on needs that had materialised from who knew where, he scowled at her.
‘I heard you.’
‘Then...’ She lifted her chin in response to his brusqueness. ‘What are you doing here?’
Jag glanced at the photo of her brother in his hand before flicking it onto the coffee table. ‘You left this behind.’
Her gaze landed on the photo. ‘Well...thanks for returning it, but you could have left it with the front desk downstairs.’
Ignoring her, Jag raised the flap of her suitcase and peered at the contents. ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’
Frowning at him, she crossed the room and slammed it closed. ‘That’s none of your business.’
Deciding that he’d wasted enough time humouring this woman, Jag gave her a look that usually sent grown men into hiding. ‘I asked you a question.’
This close, he dwarfed her in height and form, but her instincts for survival must have been truly lost because she still didn’t move back from him.
‘And I asked you to leave,’ she shot back.
Jag’s lip curled. He would have thought her much braver than she looked if not for that pulse point throbbing like a battering ram at the base of her neck.
‘I’m not leaving.’ His voice held a dark warning. ‘Not before you’ve told me everything you know about your brother.’
‘You do know my brother, don’t you?’ Finally she took a quick step backwards. ‘Do you also know where he is? Did you lie about that?’
‘I ask the questions. You answer them,’ he stated coldly.
She shook her head. ‘Who are you?’
‘That is not important.’
‘Do you have my brother?’ Her voice held a fine tremor of panic. ‘You do, don’t you?’
Jag’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘If I had your brother, why would I be here?’
‘I don’t know.’ Those cinnamon-brown eyes were riveted to his. ‘I don’t know what you want or why you’re here.’ She swallowed heavily and Jag felt his chest constrict at her obvious fear. The need to soothe it—the need to soothe her—took him completely by surprise.
Knowing this would go a lot easier if she were relaxed he tried for a conciliatory tone. ‘There’s no need to be afraid, Miss James. I merely want to ask you some questions.’
His
